


In The Clear

by snickerdoodleskeletons



Series: In the Clear [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, F/F, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Minor Mettaton/Papyrus, Mpreg, Non-Binary Frisk, Sans being an idiot, Skeleton Pregnancy, skelepreg, somewhat graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5781361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snickerdoodleskeletons/pseuds/snickerdoodleskeletons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending the night with a certain fiery bartender, Sans discovers he has been left with more than an unanswered crush. </p><p>"Smile falling away, Sans ran a hand over the curve of his skull. Something was wrong; Papyrus was very much justified in his worrying. However, Sans could not allow his brother’s happiness to be tainted by whatever was troubling Sans. It would likely turn out to be something as simple as a magical disruption due to the excessive amount of alcohol Sans had imbibed the night before. </p><p>It seemed like the most sensible explanation. Sans would ask Grillby tomorrow if he had had any repercussions due to the alcohol, too."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vertigo

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Undertale fanfiction. I apologise for any kind of grammar shenanigans, typos, mischaracterisations etc... I was inspired by a certain tumblr blog, and by the time I realised what I was doing, I had already finished writing two chapters.  
> I am very sorry for writing this. Truly. Very sorry.

The front door shut with a quiet click. For a few seconds, Sans did not move, taking in the unnatural silence filling the house. The clock hanging above the small shoe chest declared it to be close to three am.

As soon as his alcohol addled brain had ceased telling him he was standing on a boat, Sans continued onwards. Stopping at the kitchen, first, Sans drank a few mouthfuls from the water tab, intent on ridding himself of the sticky sensation the alcohol had left on the inside of his mouth and the back of his teeth. When the taste of stale alcohol finally vanished from his magical tastebuds, Sans wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and placed the glass into the sink on the way out.

Leaving his sneakers in his wake, Sans shuffled through the living room area towards the stairs. Sans would have used magic to reach his room, but he had discovered his abilities to be rather erratic when used while drunk.

Somehow, Sans reached the upper floor without incident, his instincts urging him towards Papyrus’ door. It had been left ajar. Unusual, but nothing to be concerned about. Papyrus had likely meant to wait for Sans, but fallen asleep despite not being read his bedtime story. Sans winced. There was no doubt he would be getting an earful tomorrow.

He had not meant to stay out quite so late. Or let himself be talked into having a few more drinks. However, after three months of waking up afraid of finding himself back in the Underground, Sans had had enough and decided to ensure he would experience at least one night without the constant threat of looming nightmares. To his sleep-deprived mind, going out to drink away his fears had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.

Peering inside the darkened room, Sans found his little brother fast asleep, lanky body sprawled out across the bed. With a tired smile, Sans came to stand beside the race car bed and, with the utmost care, began to tuck his brother in. Once he was satisfied with his work, Sans stepped away, swaying as the room seemed to twist in on itself.

He really should have stopped drinking after the third glass.

On shaky legs, Sans managed to reach his own bedroom, not even bothering to undress before flopping down atop his mattress. Tomorrow, he would apologise to Papyrus, offer his help in the kitchen, and maybe read two bedtime stories, instead of one. Mouth quirked into a lopsided smile, Sans nodded off.

Only to be woken a mere four hours later by Papyrus’ throwing open the door to Sans’ room with fervour. “Sans! It’s seven am, you should be getting ready! When did you even come home last night, I had to read a bedtime story to myself! Unacceptable!”

Peering up from where he had curled around his pillow, Sans offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Pap, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Instead of answering right away, as expected, Sans watched as Papyrus’ aggravated expression slipped into one of confusion, before a delighted grin spread across his younger brother’s face. Dear stars, was Papyrus planning some sort of noodle related punishment? Sans was not ready to build another castle for Papyrus’ action figures by using nothing but penne, like last time.

“Sans! Were you permitted to work at the observatory again? You are still glowing! You must still be very happy about being able to watch the stars through the large telescope again!” Papyrus crowed.

Glancing down at himself, Sans grunted.

So much for keeping his drunken escapade a secret. At least Papyrus was giving him an easy way out of explaining the rather risqué things Sans had spent the night doing with a certain fiery bartender.

Still, Sans had not expected for the remaining magic the intimate encounter had generated to persist this long. The ectoplasmic mass forming the body around his bones was shimmering with the distinct cyan of Sans’, usually so carefully contained, magic. The unusual glow of his arm was made even more apparent when Papyrus’ own, non-shining one was pressed against it as his younger brother leaned down for a quick hug.

Unlike Sans’ somewhat subtle blue colouring, Papyrus’ personal magic had given the translucent ectoplasm encasing the taller skeleton’s bones a tint of vibrant orange. A fitting colour, considering the taller skeleton’s exuberant personality. Even if it was currently outshone by Sans’ traitorous magic.

“Ah…,” Sans grimaced. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I sort of lost track of time, Pappers. Won’t happen again, promise.”

“I forgive you, Sans. Your happiness is of utmost importance to me, after all!” Papyrus straightened and patted Sans’ head with a gloved hand. “Now get out of bed, we are to meet Frisk and Toriel in an hour!”

Well, damn. “In an hour already?”

“Indeed! We will be having a grand breakfast and then take over as Frisk’s guardians for the day, for Toriel is needed in a very important, diplomatic event!” Papyrus stood, pushing his hands into his sides, a reproachful expression twisting his mouth. “Do not tell me you forgot! It was you who offered for us to babysit Frisk!”

Oh. “Oh, yeah. Heh, must’ve slipped my mind. Thanks Pap, what would I do without you, huh?”

“If it was possible, you would have turned into a snail by now, I am sure. _Nyehehe_!”

Chuckling, Sans slipped out of bed, naked toes clicking against the parquet floor. For a moment, he wavered, his vision blurring before the sense of vertigo passed as if it never occured. How strange. “Aw, Pap, are you saying I’m acting a bit… _slug_ gish?”

“ _Sans_! Stop! It is too early for your infernal puns!” Papyrus cried, turning on his heel to dash from the room. “Hurry up and get dressed!”

Not at all in a hurry, Sans pulled on a fresh set of clothes, brushed his teeth and joined Papyrus downstairs. Papyrus had not exaggerated when he talked about them having a ‘grand breakfast’. Two plates filled with golden brown pancakes and accompanied by a healthy heaping of bacon greeted Sans as he settled down at the kitchen table beside his brother. “Looks great, Pap.”

A bright grin dashed across Papyrus’ skull, exposing more teeth than usual. “Thank you, brother! I learned to make pancakes in my latest cooking class! It is not spaghetti, but they are also very delicious, I promise!”

And indeed they were. Sending Papyrus to cooking class had probably been one of the best ideas Sans had ever come up with. Surviving on burnt sauce and hard noodles alone would have cost Sans his last HP at some point, of that, he was very certain.

Twenty minutes later, they were both done eating, and Sans retreated back upstairs to grab a pair of socks. He might have dawdled a little, because, when he came back downstairs, Papyrus had already donned his bright red coat and was waiting impatiently by the door. “Sans! I said to hurry!”

“Sorry, Pap,” Sans drawled, dragging on his new boots. Humans had not been very appreciative of Sans’ need to wear slippers everywhere.

Understandable, but still rather inconvenient. There was a reason Sans preferred slippers; they were a lot easier to shuffle into and there were no laces to tie, either. Humans could be so very fussy about the silliest of things.

The walk to Frisk and Toriel’s house was a short one, seeing as they lived just across the street. Papyrus had just raised his hand to knock, when the door was thrown open and Frisk threw themselves at the tall skeleton with a giggle. The child was plucked from the ground in an instant, Papyrus never having been one to deny a hug.

“I see you are excited for us to be looking after you, little one!” Papyrus laughed, tucking Frisk against his chest as the trio made their way inside.

Toriel greeted them with a gentle smile and a warm hug as soon as the door had fallen shut behind them, cutting off the stream of cold air seeping in from outside. “Thank you both for doing this, I truly appreciate it.”

“No problem, Tori,” Sans assured, watching his brother run about the living room, Frisk still secure in Papyrus’ arms. “Anything we gotta watch out for?”

“Ah, yes! I have prepared spaghetti for lunch, you will only need to heat them up when you become hungry. Should I not be back before Frisk’s bedtime, they are to go to bed no later than ten o’ clock, otherwise, they will be tired in the morning. There are spare blankets in the commode in Frisk’s room, should you need them and, please, do not make a mess of my kitchen if you decide to cook yourselves something other than spaghetti,” Toriel offered a pleading smile in Sans’ direction, clearly hoping to appeal to his mature side, while Papyrus started to rotate in tight circles at the sound of there being spaghetti to be eaten.

“Sure, I’ll keep an eye on things, don’t worry.” Sans nodded, patting Toriel’s arm. “Highly doubt Papyrus is gonna try to cook if you made spaghetti, though.”

“Thank you again, Sans.” A mischievous smile curved the former queen’s lips as she bent down and lowered her voice to ensure her next words would not be heard by her child, “Now. Is there any specific reason as to why you are positively glowing, young man?”

Cheeks growing hotter by the second, Sans pulled his shoulders up until most of his face was obscured by the faux fur of his jacket. “Huh? T-Tori, wh-what are you implying?”

That woman was much too observant. No wonder Frisk never even considered lying to their mother.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all!” Toriel chuckled, straightening up with a bright smile and turning to face the, still spinning, Papyrus. “I shall leave you now. Frisk, be good for your uncles, alright? I love you, my child.”

Frisk slipped from Papyrus’ arms and threw themselves at Toriel, wrapping their small arms around their mother’s legs. Sans wondered if the strained way the child gripped at Toriel’s slacks was due to sadness caused by seeing their mother leave, or if Papyrus’ vigorous twirling had caught up with Frisk and thrown off their equilibrium. The answer was likely ‘both’.

When Frisk finally allowed Toriel to leave the house, the shutting off the front door brought along a sense of awkward silence. It did not persist for long, however, and Sans soon found himself pulled into a game of hide-and-seek.

Sans ended up seeking a lot more often than not. Unsurprising, considering he approached the game the same way he approached almost anything in life; with the least amount of energy needed. Currently, he was following Frisk’s quiet giggling up the stairs.

The child had clearly gone back to their usual method of playing and changed location multiple times during their little game, making it tricky for Sans to find Frisk before Papyrus gave his own position away with an impatient screech.

With a shake of the head, Sans peered into the bathroom first, then moved on upon finding it empty to step into Frisk’s bedroom. It was an acceptable mix between charming neatness and a playful mess, the walls a friendly light blue and the floorboards made of warm cherry wood. A fluffy carpet was laid out beside the sturdy bed, covered in the remains of Frisk’s latest Lego building and the large wardrobe had been left ajar.

Padding further into the room, Sans nudged the wardrobe with his magic, allowing the door to swing open even further. A disgruntled Frisk sat between an assortment of hanging dresses, folded jeans and colourful t-shirts.

“Heh, guess you were a little too loud this time around, kiddo,” Sans grinned, reaching out to pull Frisk from their little nest and heft them up to settle them on his hip.

Despite their age, Frisk was never one to refuse being carried around at any given time. It had made all of them wonder about Frisk’s life prior to them falling into the Underground. However, in an unspoken agreement, no one had ever dared to ask, each of them afraid to pull the shadow of things past over their current happiness.

Frisk patted their little hand against Sans’ cheek. They had always been much too fascinated by the malleability of both Sans and Papyrus’ skulls, the bone more like firm flesh than anything else. Both brothers had their fair share of having their face squeezed and tugged on. At one time, Frisk had even pried apart Sans’ closed mouth to peer inside at his teeth while he had been fast asleep on the couch.

It had not been pleasant to be woken like so.

Today, however, neither Sans’ skull nor his mouth held Frisk’s attention for long. Instead, Frisk’s eyes were soon drawn in by the persistent glow of Sans’ ectoplasmic limbs. While it had grown dimmer, it was still very much noticeable. Especially to a curious eight-year-old.

Frisk spent a few moments running their fingers over the smooth ectoplasm before lifting their free hand to sign a single word; _pretty!_

“Heh, thanks, kiddo,” Sans smiled, the expression awkward. “Probably the first time you’ve seen that happen, huh?”

The child nodded. _Why are you so shiny?_

“Because I’m, uh, really happy I get to spend the day with Papyrus and you! When monsters with a see-through body like my brother and I are very happy, they’ll sometimes get shiny because our… uh, magic reacts to the happiness, I guess,” Sans answered, hoping the explanation would be enough to satisfy Frisk for now.

Guilt shone in Frisk’s eyes, before a tentative smile curved their lips. _You are happy?_

Perhaps Toriel’s observation skills had been rubbing off on Frisk a little too much. “Yeah, I guess I am, kid. Uh, anyway, I think we should go and see where Papyrus waltzed off to. Who knows, he might have gotten stuck in a cupboard again. Would explain why he hasn’t screamed my name, yet, huh?”

As it turned out, Papyrus _had_ gotten stuck. Not in the cupboard this time, but in the small space between the washing machine and the wall it was standing close to. Almost five minutes were wasted on, unsuccessfully, suppressing their laughter, and who knew how much more time passed before Sans had gathered himself enough to extract his brother’s lanky body from its prison.

“Honestly, Pappers, what made you think this was a good hiding spot? You’re way too tall to fit in there,” Sans chuckled, inspecting the top of Papyrus’ skull to see if it had taken damage while wedged against the corner of the washing machine.

“I believed hiding somewhere you thought I would not fit, would allow me to win!” Papyrus exclaimed. “I did not expect to get stuck.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Come on, get up, we can do something less hazardous. Maybe we can play a board game, or do some puzzles,” Sans tugged his brother upright the best he could what with their height difference.

Another dizzy spell hit Sans just as he was about to release his brother’s hands, knees buckling for a brief second as his vision grew dark along the edges. Papyrus’ gave an alarmed yelp, his hands moving to clasp Sans’ elbows, keeping him from stumbling. “Sans! Are you alright?”

Blinking slowly, Sans nodded and waved his hand through the air in a vague gesture. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. Must’ve moved too fast for my lazy bones to catch up with.”

A steep crinkle formed between Papyrus’ brow ridges, mouth a thin, downturned line. “Sans, you must not lie to me. Are you sure you are alright?”

“Really, Paps, it’s okay. It was just a head rush, don’t worry about it. Also, as your older brother, it’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around,” Sans winked. “Now, let’s go back to the living room, we don’t want Frisk getting bored and falling asleep on us, right?” 

“Ah, yes! How could I, the Great Papyrus, forget about my duties! Come on, Frisk, we are going to do some puzzles to ensure you do not become a lazybones like my brother!” Papyrus declared, lifting Frisk up onto his shoulders before running from the laundry room, laughing loudly as he went.

Smile falling away, Sans ran a hand over the curve of his skull. Something _was_ wrong; Papyrus was very much justified in his worrying. However, Sans could not allow his brother’s happiness to be tainted by whatever was troubling Sans. It would likely turn out to be something as simple as a magical disruption due to the excessive amount of alcohol Sans had imbibed the night before.

It seemed like the most sensible explanation. Sans would ask Grillby tomorrow if he had had any repercussions due to the alcohol, too.

Nodding to himself, Sans made his way into the living room. Frisk and Papyrus were stretched out on the thick carpet by the couch, puzzle pieces strewn across the space before them. Frisk seemed to be offering random pieces to Papyrus, who, with the usual enthusiasm, attempted to fit them together. It was apparent neither Frisk nor Papyrus were having much luck in even starting the puzzle.

“Heh. Say, you two seem to be looking a little… _puzzled_.” With a grunt, Sans dropped down beside Papyrus and started to sort the puzzle pieces by colour and shade.  

“Sans!” Papyrus screeched. “No puns! Puzzle solving is a very serious activity!”

“Aw, come on, Pappers, throw me a bone. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“No more puns. We are to concentrate of this puzzle and you will not ruin it by spouting inane jokes, brother!” Papyrus dropped the puzzle pieces he had been holding to reach for the ones Frisk held out towards him; they were no better fit than the first two, but Papyrus tried his best anyway.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to contain myself. Don’t know a lot of good puzzle puns, anyway.”

Sans met Frisk’s gaze, finding the child smiling brightly at him.

An answering grin curved Sans’ mouth, unbidden. Perhaps, it was time for him to move on and start believing in a brighter future again.


	2. Gravida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shy Potato returns with another chapter, written partially while healthy and partially while ill. So it'll likely be a horribly disjointed mess, I apologise. I did my best to edit this thing, but my head's a cotton ball today.

Two weeks later, Sans found himself kneeling before the toilet as his magical innards did their very best to rid themselves of their contents. When the heaving halted for a moment, Sans managed to reach out and flush, resting his cheek against the porcelain rim with a soft groan. With his stomach beginning to settle, Sans allowed his eyes to fall shut.

A knock on the door startled him just seconds later, Papyrus’ voice penetrating the thick door. “Sans? Sans, are you alright in there?”

“Uh…,” Sans cleared his throat. “I… yeah. I… I think I caught some kind of bug while walking home from the lab, yesterday.”

The bathroom door opened and Papyrus stepped inside, frowning. “Would you like for me to call Alphys? Or maybe Toriel?”

“Ah, maybe call Alphys and tell her I won’t be in today. Don’t wanna end up making her sick, too, Undyne would kill me.”

Papyrus gave a sage nod. “Yes, Undyne would not be pleased if you were to make Alphys sick with whatever illness you have contracted! Now, you should go and rest, Sans.”

Stretching out both arms towards Papyrus, Sans grinned. “Help me up?”

 “Of course!” Papyrus moved closer and tugged Sans upright. “Are you well enough to reach your room by yourself, brother?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Have a good day, Paps, don’t let Undyne talk you into anything dangerous, alright?” Sans gave a gentle pat to Papyrus’ shoulder and began to shuffle back to his bedroom.

When reaching his destination, Sans did not hesitate to crawl into the nest of blankets he had created in the centre of his mattress, curling up between mismatched duvets and pillows. Eyes falling shut, Sans allowed to let the sounds of Papyrus bustling about the house to wash over him. Maybe, after a long, long nap, Sans would think about calling Toriel to ask what could be done about an upset, semi-corporeal stomach.

At some point during his musings, Sans must have nodded off, for he woke to the sound of his phone ringing in an otherwise silent house. Groaning, Sans let his arm dangle down from the edge of the bed, fingers scrambling across the parquet until they clamped onto the shrilling phone. The obnoxious rectangle was quickly pulled into the safety of Sans’ nest and the call answered, “Uh, hello?”

“ _Sans? It’s Toriel! Papyrus asked me to check in on you, he said you were not feeling well and wanted to make sure you were doing alright by yourself_.”

Apparently, Sans had underestimated his little brother’s ability to worry and drag everyone down with him. “Ah, yes, I’m okay. Just an upset stomach, probably some bug I picked up yesterday. I feel a lot better than I did… ah…,” Sans glanced at the clock above his door, “Two hours ago.”

“ _I am glad, Sans. Papyrus sounded very worried when he called me, but was adamant that I wait at least two hours before calling, to make sure you’d get at least some rest,_ ” Toriel said, her smile audible through the phone.

“Heh, I’ll make sure to look extra well-rested when he gets back home, then,” Sans chuckled, “Though, it might be difficult. Sleep just comes so naturally to me… I could do it with my eyes closed.”

Toriel gave an undignified snort. “ _Oh, Sans!_ ”

“What? I thought that one was pretty _humerus_!”

“ _You ridiculous skeleton,_ ” Toriel laughed, the fond tone of her voice causing a sense of pride to spread throughout Sans’ body.

The former queen had become a very close friend in the past months, their shared love for bad puns and situational humour offering a solid base for a wonderful friendship. Between her constant mothering and Papyrus’ incessant nagging, Sans had found himself growing a little more relaxed. And, even if his fears continued to linger, they no longer did so at the forefront of his every thought. 

All in all, Toriel had made his outlook on life a lot happier.

“I do my very best to be the most ridiculous,” Sans replied, suppressing a yawn. “It’s a school day, right? I’ll let you get back to your work now, Tori. Thanks for humouring my brother.”

“ _Oh, no, Sans. We are all very worried. You’ve been unwell for a while now, haven’t you? Alphys said you’ve been getting dizzy during work a lot. Perhaps you should think about seeing a doctor?_ ”

“Ugh, you know how I feel about getting poked and prodded at, Tori,” Sans groaned, rubbing at his eyebrow ridge with his free hand. “I’ll think about it.”

“ _Good, that’s all I’m asking_ ,” Toriel sighed. “ _Alright, I really must get back to work, now. I believe it would be best if you’d call Papyrus sometime soon, just to reassure him you are alright._ ”

“Will do. Take care, Tori.”

“ _You, too, Sans!_ ” The call dropped, and so did the phone, a second later.

For a few moments, Sans lay unmoving, counting the stars Frisk had insisted on sticking to his ceiling. It was only when his stomach gave an obnoxious rumble, Sans rolled out of bed and stumbled into the hallway outside. The stairs proved a little daunting to descend, since Sans’ legs were still on the wobbly side and his head seemed to be filled with cotton.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sans strode towards the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to pluck the bottle of ketchup from it. Shutting the fridge door, Sans uncapped the ketchup and squeezed a healthy amount of it into his opened mouth. The thick condiment seeped into his body within seconds, bolstering the swell and ebb of his drowsy magic. He would need something more substantial later, but for now, Sans was content emptying the ketchup bottle to rid himself of the worst hunger.

Scuffling back out into the living room, Sans flopped down onto the couch and turned on the TV with a lazy flick of his hand. It must have been close to midday, because each channel was either showing the news, a terrible sitcom, or some kind of reality TV show. Sans settled on a show about hilarious police operations. Not the most interesting things to be watching, but it did beat the repetitive drivel that was Underground TV.

Eyes half-lidded, Sans continued to nurse at the bottle of ketchup. The drone of the TV soon began to lull him back to sleep, and Sans was ready to set down the bottle, when his stomach decided to revolt for the second time today.

Scrambling off the couch, Sans dashed towards the small bathroom off to the right and flung himself down in front of the toilet. There he sat, stomach rolling and forehead beading with sweat. Minutes ticked by before Sans’ abdomen squeezed in on itself and a sludge of half-digested ketchup mixed with a tinge of blue magic spilled from his mouth.

“ _Fuh_ … that was awful,” Sans groaned when the heaving stopped, his voice a raspy, mangled mess.

Flushing the toilet with a decisive grunt, Sans pushed himself to his feet and staggered towards the sink to rinse the disgusting taste of regurgitated food from his throat. Once the inside of his mouth no longer threatened to cause another instance of vomiting, Sans dragged off his sweat-soaked shirt. The garment was dropped to the floor, Sans’ fingers hooking into the hem of his shorts next before stilling at the unfamiliar warmth radiating from his ectoplasmic middle.

Gaze darting downwards, Sans felt his chest grow tight at the sight which greeted him. His, normally, translucent abdomen was sporting a number of milky patches and had taken on a much more vibrant shade of cyan. And within its centre, at the height at where, had Sans been human, a belly button would sit, glowed a miniscule, heart-shaped soul.

“Oh,” Sans breathed and reached out to stead himself against the sink, as the floor seemed to tilt beneath him. “Oh shit.”

Of all the things Sans had considered to be wrong with him, his body preparing to nourish a new soul had not been on the list. Apparently, he had done a lot more than merely fooling around while drunk, those two weeks ago. An agonized groan forced its way from Sans’ throat, low and guttural, his hand lifting to cradle his skull.

This was a disaster.                              

Dragging in a number of deep, grounding breaths, Sans drummed his fingertips against the curve of his parietal bone, until he no longer felt as if his ribcage was being constricted. A gusty sigh hissed through Sans’ clenched teeth as his eyes were once more drawn down to the bean-sized soul hovering behind the ectoplasmic barrier. Lowering a shaky hand, Sans rested his palm onto his abdomen, just above the tiny life within him, and his magic instinctively reached out towards the developing soul. Was it even viable?

A pulse of warmth was his answer, prompting a burst of hysterical laughter to fly from Sans’ mouth. There he was, just barely holding onto his one HP, yet his body seemed to see no issue in nurturing a new soul. Absurd.

How was he supposed to explain this? Sans had not even managed to admit he had gotten drunk and spent most of the night exploring Grillby’s fiery anatomy to anyone. There was no way him having a baby would go over well, considering the circumstances. He had not spoken to Grillby since their little bedsheet tango, either. Sans could only imagine how furious the fire sprite would be at the news.

Not to mention Papyrus’ disappointment when the younger skeleton found out about Sans’ lying. Perhaps, for now, Sans would do best by keeping quiet. Just until he figured out a way to reveal his… _pregnancy_ to everyone, without causing a metaphorical mess.  For there was no way he would be able to take the emotional strain a soul removal would bring along.

So, for the time being, Sans would simply do his best to ignore what was happening. He still had a lot of time. A few months, at least.

Nodding to himself, Sans exited the bathroom and trudged his way upstairs to his bedroom to retrieve a fresh shirt from the wardrobe. A thick sweater joined the shirt after a moment of contemplation. With the bulky garment concealing most of his figure, Sans felt a little more secure, despite there being nothing to hide away just yet.

His next destination was the bed, where he had left his phone lying between creased sheets and duvets. With a few swipes of his thumb, Sans was dialing his brother’s number and pressed the phone to his skull.

The call had barely connected when Papyrus’ voice blared through the speaker, “ _Sans! Are you alright? I expected you to call sooner!_ ”

“I’m okay, Paps. Not a hundred percent, yet, though,” Sans replied, flopping down onto the bed with a sigh and offered a sort of half-truth as explanation, “I decided to get some food in me, earlier, but it didn’t go too well.”

“ _Ah! Yes, Toriel explained you might have trouble eating a lot of the things you normally eat, and has offered to make you her special vegetable soup! She will bring it over once school is over, so please, try not to sleep through her knocking, brother._ ”

“I’ll do my best. How’re you doing?”

“ _I am doing very well! Undyne and I will be done painting the living room around dinner time, so do not be alarmed if I come home later than usual, we are having a lot of fun!_ ” Papyrus’ distinct laugh echoed down the line. “ _Please call a little sooner if you feel worse again, Sans. I was very worried!_ ”

“Sorry, bro.” Sans rubbed at his bony eyelid. “Gonna relax a little now. Have fun at Undyne’s, Pappers.”

“ _I will! Enjoy your lazy day, brother! I love you!_ ”

“Heh, love you, too.”

As soon as the call ended, Sans pushed himself off the bed and trudged back downstairs. He had some cleaning to do. Toriel would not appreciate stepping in a puddle of ketchup when entering the living room. Hopefully, the carpet had not been stained when Sans dropped the bottle, Papyrus would have his head.

Hobbling down the stairs, Sans was relieved to see that the ketchup had spared the fluffy carpet. It still took him almost thirty minutes to scrub the remnants of his snack from between the floorboards, but it definitely beat buying a replacement rug. Chucking the dirty sponge into the bucket of grimy water, Sans gathered up the empty ketchup bottle and moved into the kitchen to dispose of it. After returning the cleaning products back to their proper place, Sans relocated to the couch and settled down to watch some more mindless drizzle on TV.

Toriel showed up about two hours later, weighed down by a large pot and a bag filled with papers waiting to be graded. She had not even bothered to knock, opening the door with a wave of warm magic, and startling Sans into sitting up. Toriel greeted him with a soft chuckle before continuing onwards into the kitchen. Sans listened to Toriel setting down the pot and turning on the stove, before the goat monster re-entered the living room, coming to stand beside the couch.

Mouth curved into a gentle smile, Toriel touched her paw to Sans’ skull. “Oh, Sans, look at you. You poor thing.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse,” Sans soothed, waving his hand through the air in a vague gesture.

Toriel seemed to hesitate for a moment, then shook her head and settled down on the edge of the couch. “I’m sure you have. Now, I’ve brought some vegetable soup, and I truly hope you will be able to stomach at least some of it… Papyrus was so very worried, Sans, the little dear.”

“Little? He’s almost as tall as you are, Tori,” Sans laughed. “Paps hasn’t been anywhere near ‘little’ since he turned thirteen. Grew like a beanstalk.”

“Oh, you know what I mean! You’re all so very young, to me,” Toriel smiled, her fluffy paw slipping away to rest in her lap, a pensive expression overtaking her soft features. “Sans… have you… told anyone, yet?”

“Told what?” Sans frowned. He could not have given himself away already, could he?

An exasperated smile spread across Toriel’s face. “Sans. You are aware my magic allows me to sense souls, no matter how _new_ they are, do you not?”

Ah. _Shit_. In disbelief at his own idiocy, Sans smacked both palms against his skull. “Oh. I… forgot. Heh. So… uh, you know, then. Good. Great.”

“Sans,” Toriel sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Haven’t we talked about your habit of keeping unnecessary secrets two months ago?”

“It’s not unnecessary, Tori. Please, I need some time to… figure things out. This wasn’t planned, I…,” Sans broke off, dragging in an unsteady breath, “Remember when Pap and I came over to keep an eye on Frisk two weeks ago?”

“Ah, yes. The day you showed up, glowing like the mushrooms down in Waterfall,” Toriel snickered.

“Heh, yeah. Anyway, you… uh, were right.”

“I knew it!” Toriel exclaimed. “Who’s the lucky monster?”

“It’s not… really... really… I-!” Sans continued to stammer for a few long seconds before burying his face in his hands.

“Sans?” Toriel’s voice had softened, a hint of uncertainty tainting it. “While I know you are rather shy on occasion, your reaction is a little worrying.”

Scrambling to explain, Sans began to shake his head, before the words came tumbling out without his consent, “No, I just- I don’t... Look. I was at Grillby’s bar and I wanted to get drunk, have a good time, you know? You know the guy, right? Very handsome flame monster. Have had a crush on him for ages. Anyway, I really needed a few drinks to just… relax for a while because life is stressful and… and… well, long story short, I ended up in bed with Grillby. And while that wasn’t the first time, I’ve never messed up like this. I never… never offered him my freaking soul!”

Toriel cleared her throat. “Well… you’re hardly the first person to do thoughtless things while drunk, Sans.”

“I know that, Tori, but this isn’t just about being embarrassed and not being able to go to my favourite bar anymore to keep some dignity. How do I even go about telling Grillby he’s going to be a father?” Sans wailed, “I don’t know what to fricking do!”

Warm paws cupped his cheeks, prompting Sans to meet Toriel’s eyes. “Listen, Sans. There’s no real advice I can give you. I’ve never been in your situation. But, please, should you decide to keep the child, consider telling either your brother or Grillby. Nurturing a new soul by yourself will put a large strain upon your body, no matter how powerful your magic is.”

Uncomfortable, Sans averted his gaze. “I know. It’s just… I need time to think about everything. So I can figure out the best course of action.”

“I understand. Just, please, do not _over_ think this. There are people who love you, no matter what.” She removed her hands and stood. “Now, how about we both eat a bowl of soup while you watch some mindless TV and I start on grading my students' papers?”

“Sounds like a brilliant idea, Tori,” Sans smiled, relief flooding his body.

“Of course it is! There’s nothing more uplifting than a nice meal,” Toriel chirped.  

As soon as Toriel stepped back into the kitchen, Sans’ smile dropped. So much for his plan to ignore things until he could no longer. It had been a stupid plan, of course, Sans was very much aware, but still. Procrastinating was always so much more appealing than facing one’s problems outright. With a soft, frustrated whine, Sans dragged one of the decorative pillows over his head, burying his face against the soft fabric.

What a big, big mess.


	3. Fetus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I had to rewrite almost the entire chapter, because I wasn't satisfied at all with the first draft. Anyway, Happy very-late birthday, Skelly?  
> I shall return to my hiding spot under the bed now. Any and all errors are the fault yours truly being unable to find their own mistakes while staring at a computer screen.

Shoulders drawn up towards his jawline, Sans trudged through the slush covering the sidewalk. There went his second attempt at telling Grillby about their tiny mistake. Honestly, how was Sans ever supposed to reveal his pregnancy to fire sprite, if the mere sight of the little bar made him break into a sweat and turn tail?

He could not do it.  Not when there was a large chance the news of their little mistake would destroy the comfortably close relationship between them. Not when Sans was already grasping at every ounce of affection the fire sprite offered him, despite knowing there would never be more than the occasional, drunken stint of intimacy.

Frustrated and ashamed at his own cowardice, Sans made his way back home.

The sound of Papyrus’ slightly off-key humming greeted Sans, alongside the scent of home cooked food wafting from the kitchen. The latter of which was enough to push Sans’, currently much too delicate, digestive system right back over the edge. Meaning, he had barely enough time to mourn the loss of his recent breakfast before it made an unwelcome reappearance.

All over Papyrus new boots.

“Ooh…,” Sans groaned, not even attempting to straighten up as Papyrus came thundering towards him. Everything hurt.

“Sans! Not again! This is the third pair of boots you have ruined. If you do not like my boots, there are other ways to tell me!” Papyrus cried and nudged Sans into the living room with gentle hands, ushering him to sit down on the large couch.

“Aw, Paps, you know I love your sense of fashion. I don’t mean to barf all over your stuff, I promise, it just happens.” Sans offered a lopsided smile of reassurance to remove the dark frown marring Papyrus’ face.

With a loud sigh, Papyrus dropped down onto the cushions beside Sans. “Sans, I think it is time for you to go see Doctor Alphys. You’ve been unwell for almost three months now, and Toriel’s healing is clearly not helping any longer. So, perhaps Doctor Alphys can!”

Sans winced, shoulders rising until the fluffy edge of his hood swallowed most of his skull. To think Sans had believed himself to be discrete about his stomach’s tumultuous relationship towards any kind of food. He really needed to stop undervaluing his brother’s observational skills. “M’fine, bro. Also, Alphys isn’t that kind of doctor-”

“Sans! Please!” Papyrus stood, pushing his hands into his hips, the sudden change in his tone startling Sans into silence. “I have watched you struggle through your illness long enough! I know you will not even consider going to the hospital here, you are much too stubborn and more than careless when it comes to your own health! I know Alphys is not a… a… doctor-doctor, but she is a scientist like you, and you always said a scientist finds solutions to problems. So, you will go to see Alphys today, and if I have to call Undyne to have her carry you there!”

Sans wondered if this was how Frisk felt when Toriel scolded them for eating cookies before dinner. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, Sans gave a resigned sigh, “Fine, I’ll go see Alphys. Happy now?”

“Very much!” Papyrus grabbed onto Sans’ shoulders and began to push Sans towards the staircase. “Please, take a shower first, though! I will call Alphys to inform her of our coming and will attempt to locate a pair of shoes for myself that is not contaminated in the meantime!”

Mouth curved into a fond grin, Sans nodded and began to climb the stairs.

Not at all eager to see Alphys, Sans decided to take his time. After giving his teeth a vigorous and thorough scrub, Sans undressed with the velocity of a narcoleptic snail and hopped into the shower to rinse the sickly smell of vomit off his body. By the time Sans returned downstairs, Papyrus had found an old pair of boots to wear and was waiting impatiently by the front door. As soon as Sans had wiggled his feet into a pair of sneakers and one arm through the sleeve of his blue jacket, Papyrus forced him out the door, very much eager to get going.

While Sans piled into the passenger seat of Papyrus’ car, his brother was left to sweep a thick layer of snow off the vehicle’s roof, insisting Sans’ help was not needed. Sans supposed Papyrus simply wanted to ensure his last pair of clean shoes would not suffer the same fate as its brethren before it. With a shake of the head, Sans dragged the door shut behind himself and buckled in. Papyrus joined him soon after, starting the car with jittery hands and firing up the heater.

“Pretty cold out, huh?” Sans mumbled.

“Indeed!” Papyrus nodded, checking the rear view mirror before adjusting his seat. “The weatherman has said there will be more snow to come tonight, too. Can you imagine, Sans? There’s already so much snow! How can there be more?”

Sans chuckled. “There’re places where the snow is over four meters high, Paps.”

“What! How do people drive their cars then?”

“They don’t.”

“Preposterous! Awful!” Papyrus cried, before falling silent as he was distracted by attempting to find a radio channel not overrun by advertisement.  

Once a channel was found, Papyrus guided the car from their short driveway out into the street. They drove in relative silence, seeing as Papyrus had not had his license for long, and was still very anxious to not make a single mistake. It was endearing to watch, even if the lack of conversation soon proved fatal to Sans’ alert state.

Halfway to Alphys and Undyne’s house, Sans nodded off, only to wake when Papyrus turned off the rumbling motor upon reaching their destination. Frown in place, Sans undid his seatbelt and slipped out of the car. A harsh gust of wind swept down the driveway they had parked in, prompting Sans to duck his head into the plush faux-fur along the hood of his jacket. There were so many other things Sans would be rather doing than letting Alphys prod her way towards discovering the truth about his ‘sickness’.

Like letting Frisk stick their fingers into his eye sockets, for example.

But, alas, Sans did not resist when Papyrus began to push him through the snow towards the front door, like one would an unwilling toddler. They were just about to ascend the three steps leading onto the porch, when the door was thrown open, revealing Undyne, bundled up in two sweaters and a bright orange hat to cover her ear fins with.

“Finally!” she shouted, stomping her socked feet once, twice. “Get in, you losers, it’s cold as heck out there! I hope you’re ready for a sleepover, the weather guy on TV said there might be snowstorm later today!”

“Heh. So, are we expecting to get _snowed in_?” Sans grinned.

“Yeah, basicall- was that a pun?” Undyne scowled, eyes narrowing for a few moments as she stared down at Sans. “Did you just make a pun? No puns, Sans, not after the pun avalanche you released at Alphys’ birthday party three months ago. Just no.”

Papyrus lifted Sans off the ground and shuffled them both past Undyne into the house. “I am sure he did not mean to make a pun, Undyne!”

Undyne shut the door, cutting off the stream of ice cold air. “We both know he absolutely meant to make that pun, Papyrus. But, since I do not punch sick little weaklings, I guess I’ll have to let it go and _not_ slam dunk him into a snow poff!”

“The cold never bothered me anyway,” Sans mumbled, grunting when Papyrus squeezed him in reprimand. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

“Good!” Papyrus huffed, setting Sans back down.

“Enough with the babbling!” Undyne crossed her arms with a growl. “Shoes and jackets off, you know the drill, I will not have you ruin the carpets. Sans, Alphys is waiting downstairs in the nerd cellar. Papyrus, get your skinny ass moving, we’re gonna cook spaghetti!”

“Language,” Sans chided, as he proceeded to toe off his sneakers.

No one was listening, of course. As soon as Papyrus had divested himself of his outdoor wear, Undyne and Sans’ little brother were off, chanting _‘spaghetti, spaghetti!’_ as they made a dash for the kitchen. Sans breathed a fond sigh. Hopefully, Papyrus would know better than to listen to Undyne, after the numerous cooking lessons Sans had paid for. Perhaps, their combined cooking prowess was enough to keep the house from burning down this time around. With a soft chuckle and a shake of the head, Sans started towards the staircase leading down to the personal laboratory-turned-cellar.

Alphys was, indeed, waiting for him. The short, bipedal lizard was fiddling with the hem of her knitted pullover where she stood beside the gleaming metal of a large centrifuge, snout bunched into a shy smile. “H-hello, Sans! Ah… y-your brother s-said you’ve been sick for a while and n-needed me to h-help f-find the reason why?”

“He’s making a big deal out of nothing,” Sans replied, moving to sit in the comfortable chair by the empty saltwater aquarium in a corner of the lab, partially obscured by a chest high room divider.

By the stars, he was so tired. Also, Alphys really needed to buy something to fill the tank with, it was ridiculous how long the thing had stood empty.

“W-well, he sounded very concerned. S-so, I think it’d be… be good if we did a basic check-up on your m-magic levels and… and s-soul strength.” Alphys turned away, scuttling about the room to gather whatever she needed to perform the examination.

Where Sans had stayed in the field of physics and theoretical space travel, Alphys had chosen life sciences and robotics, always more interested in the workings of the soul than trajectory calculations. Meaning, there was no way Alphys would not figure out what was going on, once she had taken a look at Sans’ readings. It made Sans feel rather unbalanced and very much out of his realm of comfort. Maybe, he should have protested their coming here a little more, Papyrus was, while not at all a pushover, easy to distract when one knew how.

“Is that really necessary?” Sans inquired, sinking deeper into the plush chair.

“N-no, but it w-would make us all feel a l-little bit b-better…? We’re all c-concerned, Sans, so please, let me help?” Alphys wobbled towards him, setting the various instruments she had brought along down onto the small table close by. “I-I promise I’ll be c-careful!”

With a groan, Sans pushed himself upright and gave in. “Fine. Just… promise me, you’ll keep your mouth shut if you find anything. I want to tell everyone about it in my own time.”

“I-I… okay,” Alphys blinked. “That’s fair. I’ll measure your m-magic first, Papyrus s-said you haven’t b-been using it as much as usual a-and it’s been a while since your last reading.”

Shrugging, Sans held out his hands for Alphys to clip a gleaming metal brace around each wrist. “He always scolded me for using it too much. Thought I could try being a little less lazy, for a while, you know?”

“Sans, we both know you’re n-not lazy,” Alphys whispered. “Y-you know what’s wrong already, d-don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Alphys huffed and attached a cable to each brace, linking it to the small tablet held in her left paw. The device came to life with a low whir, the screen turning blue, then white as a number of readings and measurement bars crawled across it. It took a few moments before the apparatus recognised Sans’ magical signature, another minute for the measurement to be taken, and a mere second for a comparison between the former and the newest readings to be made.

Alphys’ eyes grew wide, then narrowed in concern. “Sans, your m-magic is so low! W-what h-have you been doing a-all day?”

Peering down at the screen, Sans hummed. His magic was, indeed, low. Not dangerously so, but the device had detected an overall loss of 43.6% of his impressive magical reserves, which in Sans’ case, could become a problem, if not halted in time. No wonder he had been feeling so exhausted. “Nothing, actually.”

“D-don’t lie to me about something so serious!” Alphys thundered, her unexpected outburst prompting an undignified squeak from Sans. Undyne was definitely rubbing off on Alphys, and Sans was not sure whether he appreciated this particular side of his lab partner. “Sh-shirt off, I’m checking your soul n-next.”

Sans froze for a second, then schooled his face into an awkward grin. “Ah, Alphys, how forward of you. What will Undyne say?”

“S-Sans, I’m n-not in the mood for your games! I p-promised Papyrus I w-would help.” Alphys expression softened again, a concerned frown creasing her scaly brow. “Please, S-Sans, I j-just want to make s-sure we’re not g-going to lose you.”

Dammit. There was no graceful way to get out of the situation _now_. Why was everyone so well-versed in the act of guilt-tripping him?

Resigned, Sans unzipped the front of his hoodie and, after hesitating for a moment long, dragged off his shirt. For a moment, neither of them spoke, Alphys’ eyes locked on the cloudy, rounded bulge of Sans’ abdomen, while Sans himself kept his gaze fixed at the empty aquarium.

“O-oh my stars,” Alphys whispered. “Sans a-are you…?”

“Pregnant? Yeah,” Sans sighed, falling limp against the backrest of the chair. “Please, keep your word and don’t tell anyone. I just. I can’t have anyone know, just yet. Tori already figured it out by herself, but… I… ”

Small, scaly hands reached out to touch his shoulders, giving them a few, tentative pats. “Y-you’re okay, S-Sans. I w-won’t tell. I u-understand taking responsibility i-is scary and… and… so is change. Having a b-baby is a big ch-change. Y-you probably want to just… ignore wh-what’s happening f-for a while longer. I-I’m not saying I understand what y-you’re s-specifically going through! B-but… your m-magic will continue to drain as the baby grows, without your partner to help you. S… so…”

Moments like these reminded Sans why he had avoided Alphys back in the Underground; she was one of the few who understood the inane fears plaguing him. Sans allowed his head to dip forward, eyes falling shut. “I know! I know. But I can’t tell hi- _them_ , just yet. I just… can’t.”

Alphys shifted her weight from foot to foot. “It’s your d-decision, Sans. And, wh-while I think y-you should at least tell Papyrus so h-he can ensure your magic w-won’t deplete any more, since he’s, obviously, the second best option after your partner, I… ah… well, I c-could maybe donate some of mine for n-now, instead?”

“I can’t ask that of you, Alphys,” Sans muttered.

“N-no! Please, we’re f-friends, right? I- it’s the l-least I can do.” Her stubby fingers wrapped around his spindly ones, a golden shimmer soon enveloping both of their hands.

Alphys’ magic seeped into him, jittery and warm, so unlike his own. At first, Sans felt even worse than before, the little soul within his belly shuddering with primal confusion and distress at the unfamiliar magic invading their safe haven. Mere seconds later, the given magic was converted into Sans’ own and the urge to pull away slowly faded alongside his exhaustion.

It did not take long for Alphys to reach her limit, however, the glow fading as she released Sans’ hands and sat at the edge of the small table holding her equipment. A tired smile curved her snout and Sans found himself returning it, unbidden. “Thanks, Alphys. I feel a lot better.”

“I b-bet you do!” Alphys squawked. “You really n-need to be more c-careful, Sans. Y-you do not have to tell anyone yet, b-but at least a-ask Toriel or me for h-help?”

“Eh, I’ll try to remember.” Sans dropped his gaze downwards to take in the sight of his ever changing body.

In recent days, his abdomen had begun to bulge outwards at the height of where his iliac crests shimmered through the ectoplasm. The tiny soul had grown a little bigger, but still not enough to be noticeable at first glance, but definitely when one looked a second time. It was during his current scrutiny, Sans noticed the opaque, kidney sized and –shaped construct which had formed low within his belly, the small soul hovering close to it.

“What is that thing?” Sans mumbled, prodding at his belly.

The tiny soul shifted away, and so did the kidney bean, albeit slower. Did it belong to the soul? Had Sans swallowed something and it had not been digested for some unknown reason?

“Hm? Oh!” Alphys gasped and gave a nervous giggle. “Th-that is likely where the b-baby’s body will grow! Kind of l-like a pseudo womb? I-I’m not c-certain, I’ll be reading up on skeleton reproduction and fetal development t-tonight, to make sure!”

Cheeks growing hot, Sans offered nothing but a vague hum as he fumbled to drag his shirt back over his head. “Uh, yeah, that’d be appreciated. So, ah, we’re clear on the _no-telling-anyone-about-this_ , right?”

Alphys nodded, the spikes at the back of her head bouncing. “Of course!”

Sans eyes narrowed. “And no tweeting it, either, Alphys.”

“O-of course, eh-he-he,” Alphys tittered, her smile growing awkward.

A snort fell from Sans’ mouth, his hands coming to rest against the rounded warmth of his abdomen. Familiar, tender feelings began to well up within his chest, the most prominent a protective sort of love for the tiny soul growing just beneath his palms. And, for the first time, Sans did not see the need to shy away from said emotions.

Everything would be alright. He just needed to be a little braver.


	4. Gestation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry this took so long, I was very unhappy with the chapter, it seems very disjointed (probably because I rewrote it in sections, my goodness).  
> Anyway, I apologise for any inconsistencies, errors (be it grammatical or otherwise) and whatnot.  
> The Shy Potato is giving up on attempting to write quality stuff, apparently.

Bravery did not come easy to Sans, as it turned out. An entire four weeks after his conversation with Alphys, he had still not found the courage to reveal anything to neither Grillby, nor Papyrus. He had, however, overcome his apprehension towards visiting the fire elemental’s bar. Especially since he no longer felt an excessive need to vomit whenever he so much as saw a ketchup bottle. 

With a smile, Sans pushed open the door leading into the bar. The familiar scent of grease and burnt wood wafted towards him. Almost eagerly, Sans shut the door behind himself and moved further into the cosy establishment. A few waves and greetings were thrown Sans’ way, but he barely took the time to return them as his feet carried him towards the bright glow of Grillby’s flame.

The bartender looked pleasantly surprised to see him, a faint outline of his jack-o-lantern smile crystallising from his fire. Grillby’s voice was just loud enough to carry across the space between them, gentle and tinged with the slightest of rasps, “Sans. I did not expect you to come. You said Papyrus and you would be babysitting Frisk today.”

Cheeks growing hot, Sans gave an awkward laugh. “Ah, yeah, I just felt like visiting for a little bit. We don’t get to talk a lot as it is.”

“Ah, I see,” Grillby replied and nudged the ketchup bottle standing on the counter closer to Sans. “I am, of course, glad you found the time to come around.”

An unexpected warmth spread through Sans’ ribcage, soul pulsing a little quicker than before. There was an instant response to his brightened mood from the tiny passenger occupying his abdomen, soft and with a hint of excitement, and Sans only just kept himself from touching his hands to his belly.

With unsteady hands, Sans grabbed onto the ketchup bottle and pulled it towards himself, fiddling with the cap before speaking, “So, uh… I’ve been meaning to… uh… tell you something for a while.”

Grillby set down the dishtowel he had been using to polish a glass and leaned his elbows onto the countertop. “Yes?”

Sans grew silent, contemplating how he should approach the topic. Blurting it out seemed like the wrong way to go about this. But the integrities of calm, informative conversations had always eluded him. There was a reason he had not taken on Toriel’s offer to become a physics teachers at her school; he might be patient, but he lacked the ability to compress his explanations into something even a layperson could follow.

“Sans?” Grillby prompted, flicking a finger against Sans’ cheek. “Have you gotten lost inside your head again?”

Sans shook his head, mouth quirking into his usual, overly wide grin. “Eh, yeah, you know me too well.”

“Of course I do. We have known each other for quite a while, Sans, and we have shared a lot of pleasant moments, too.” Grillby drummed his fingers against the countertop. “Now, what was it you wished to tell me?”

Panicking for a moment, Sans scrambled to find his footing within the conversation, every ounce of determination he had in regards to finally telling Grillby vanishing. “Ah! Uh… I just… wanted to tell you I remembered how you set your pants on fire that time we got so sloshed a few months ago.”

“Ah,” Grillby chuckled, the sound resembling the soft crackle of a coal fire, the fire flickering atop his head tinging with purple. “Indeed. Although, I believe, you were a little more compromised than I. I faintly remember you attempting to serenade me while holding an empty ketchup bottle to your mouth as if it were a microphone.”

Sans’ cheeks grew hot. “Oh. Uh. I don’t remember that. At all.”

“You were very drunk.” Grillby nodded.

“Heh, yeah. Never been very good at holding my drinks,” Sans snickered, most of the tension in his bones seeping away.

It did not take long for them to fall into their usual routine of bantering back and forth. Soon, Sans began to chuck one bad knock-knock joke after the other at Grillby, while the fire sprite did his very best to ruin every single one of them whenever there were no new customers. The interaction felt… nice. Safe.

A good two hours later, Sans decided it was time to head back home. Bidding Grillby and the rest of the bar goodbye, Sans slipped from the barstool with a yawn and lumbered back out the door into the cold, cold afternoon air. With his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his favourite jacket, Sans began to walk.

It was close to three pm by the time Sans stepped through the front door of his home. From the kitchen came the sound of pots banging and Frisk’s high-pitched laughter. Apparently, Sans had missed Toriel bringing her child over. Sans was not pleased; Toriel had wanted to tell him a new knock-knock joke a co-worker had told her. He had also meant to ask her whether she would be willing to donate some magic, like Alphys had done, since he was already running low again.

Toeing off his sneakers, Sans called out, “Pappers? Kiddo?”

He had barely finished speaking, when Frisk came barrelling out of the kitchen, a bright grin on their face and a gleam of intent in their dark eyes. Shoulders crawling towards his jawline and eyes squeezing shut, Sans grunted as Frisk buried their tiny body into his middle, their forehead hitting the centre of his sternum. 

Wrapping his arms around Frisk, Sans managed to drag in a quick breath and speak, “Geez, kid, one would think you missed me, or something. Was Paps such bad company?”

“Excuse me! I provide nothing but good company!” Papyrus peered out of the kitchen with a heavy frown, the expression belied by the bright grin curving his lipless mouth. “Welcome home, Sans!”

“Thanks, bro,” Sans gently nudged Frisk out of the hug and steered them back towards the kitchen. “What’ve you two been up to?”

“Frisk and I have been busy preparing a late lunch!” Papyrus replied, sprinkling a few fresh, green leaves of basil into the large pot containing – of course – Bolognese sauce. “Or maybe an early dinner?”

“Ah. I see we’re having spaghetti, again?” Sans inquired as he leaned in to stare down into the pot, breathing in the delicious aroma wafting from the bubbling contents. “I thought you wanted to try that new recipe Toriel gave you last week… what was it again? Some kind of curry?”

Papyrus blinked, then flushed a bright orange. “Ah! Yes. But I decided not to risk ruining the dish and have Frisk wait for lunch longer than necessary!”

Sans nodded and stepped away from the stove when Frisk began to tug at his jacket. It took him a moment to realise they were attempting to drag the thick clothing article off his torso and failing. Eyes narrowing with mirth, Sans allowed the child to continue their antics for a few seconds longer, before he unzipped his jacket and slipped his arms from the sleeve. Frisk caught the garment with a huff and stalked from the room, the jacket balled up against their chest.

Suppressing another yawn, Sans settled down at the small kitchen table. For a while, the house was quiet, the silence only broken by the sounds of Frisk rummaging around the living room. The tranquil atmosphere nudged a tender smile onto Sans’ face, his hand coming to rest against the ever growing curve of his belly carefully hidden beneath the table.

A sleepy wave of warmth pulsed through him, the tiny soul reacting the instant they felt Sans’ attention shift towards them. Over the course of the past days, Sans had made an effort to connect with the child growing within him, feeling somewhat guilty he had not done so beforehand.

Rubbing his fingers along the firm curve, Sans opened his mouth to address his brother once more, “Did Tori say anything about when she’d be back to pick the kid up?”

“She said the meeting might run late and that she will call, once she’s on her way back here,” Papyrus answered, giving the sauce a quick stir before placing the lid back onto the pot and turning to look at Sans. “Toriel was also very disappointed about you not being home when she arrived! Where did you go, anyway?”

“Ah, I decided to take a walk and ended up visiting Grillby.” Sans shrugged, cheeks growing warm.

Papyrus’ eye sockets narrowed, mouth quirking into a type of grin Sans only seldom saw upon his younger brother’s face. “Grillby, huh? You’ve been seeing Grillby an awful lot, Sans.”

“S-so? I went to Grillby’s almost everyday back in the Underground,” Sans stammered.

“Yes. However, you went there to _eat_ and meet up with the other sentries, Sans! Something you no longer need to do, for I have become a very capable chef and the Royal Guard no longer exists as it once did.” A bright grin split Papyrus’ face, a spark glowing in the darkness of his sockets. “I think I know what is going on, Sans!”

“No, Paps!” Sans wailed, standing and taking a step towards his snickering brother, intent on physically shutting Papyrus’ traitorous mouth.

He did not get far. As if every ounce of magic had been swept from his body, Sans felt his legs give out, sending him stumbling into his brother. Papyrus gave a surprised squawk, arms wrapping around Sans to keep him upright. “Sans! Are you alright? Did you stand up too quickly again?”

“Ah, yeah. That’s, uh, what happened. Yeah.” Clearing his throat, Sans locked his knees and managed to push himself upright, but Papyrus refused to let go just yet.

Papyrus frowned. “Sans… are you lying to me?”

“What? No!” Sans sputtered. “I’m alright- _oof_!”

It seemed Frisk had had enough of rampaging around the living room and decided to barrel into Sans, possibly to ensure they would not be left out of a potential hug. Head tilting to peer down at the child clinging to his side, Sans met a pair of dark, worried eyes. Frisk’s brows were drawn and their chin was trembling, a tell-tale sign Sans needed to act fast to avoid having to explain why Toriel’s precious baby was a snot-nosed mess by the end of the day. With a triumphant ‘hah!’ Sans reached out and began to skate his wiggling fingers along the vulnerable skin beneath Frisk’s jawline.

It worked like a charm. Instantly, the child began to giggle and squirm, doing their best to escape Sans’ too-quick digits. Soon, Frisk was wheezing more than they were laughing and Sans relented, tugging the child close when they yawned. “Heh, guess you could use a nap before dinner, huh?”

Frisk shook their head, mouth gaping open with another, even bigger yawn.

“Nope, you’re definitely taking a nap, kiddo. Come on.” Turning his head, glanced up at his younger brother. “Think they could use your bed, Paps? Mine’s a bit messy right now.”

“Of course! I even changed the bedsheets just this morning. Sleep well, Frisk! The spaghetti shall be ready once you have taken your well-deserved nap!” Papyrus replied.

Frisk grumbled, but did not protest further when Sans began to hoard them out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Once reaching Papyrus’ room, Frisk did not hesitate to climb into the freshly made bed, crawling beneath the thick blanket and burying their face into the fluffed pillows. With a fond shake of the head, Sans tucked the child in and brushed his palm over Frisk’s tousled hair.

“Sleep tight, kiddo,” Sans mumbled, receiving a gentle pat to the chest in response.

Upon returning downstairs after Frisk had fallen asleep, Sans walked straight back into the kitchen to sit down at the table again. Papyrus seemed lost in thought, standing in front of the large pot of spaghetti sauce, stirring in slow, monotonous intervals. An odd, uncomfortable atmosphere had overtaken the room.

As the minutes ticked by, Sans grew more and more tense. Finally, Papyrus set the wooden spoon down upon a small plate and turned to look at Sans, mouth twisted into a thin line while his right eye betrayed the slightest hint of orange. “Sans.”

“Uh, yeah, Pappers?” Sans croaked.

It was not often Sans witnessed this side of Papyrus. Papyrus had always made sure to keep a firm hold upon his magic, to ensure he would not cause anyone harm by accident. To see Papyrus’ control slip was concerning.

“You have been lying to me, have you not?” Papyrus took a step forward, then crossed his arms. “About why you have been so weak. About your… your illness.”

Sans laughed awkwardly, a hint of nervousness twisting itself into a knot at the base of his throat. “I don’t know what you mean, Paps. I’m fine. Just haven’t been sleeping well and whatnot.”

Papyrus stomped his socked foot onto the ground, which was a lot less effective than it would have been, had he been wearing boots. Oh dear, now, his little brother was definitely upset. “Sans! Stop! I have had it with your cryptic answers and your constant lies! You only have one HP and I am worried! Are you falling? Is that it?”

“What! No!” Sans quickly shook his head, almost growing dizzy. “I’m not- geez, Paps, I’m not dying. I’m just a little under the weather and-”

“I do not believe you!” Papyrus cried, thick orange tears beading along the rim of his eye sockets. “Alphys will not answer my questions when I ask her about your illness, and Toriel says I should ask you! But whenever I ask, you either distract me, or leave the room! You throw up at random times during the day, you keep touching your middle and, today, you almost fainted again just because you stood up form a chair, Sans! I cannot do this anymore, _please_ , tell me what is happening!”

Mouth agape, Sans could do nothing but stare at his brother. His fingers twisted into the fabric covering his abdomen. “I- Paps, listen, I’m not even close to turning to dust, alright? You need to calm down-”

“But you might?” Papyrus exclaimed, his right eye flashing a brilliant shade of tangerine.

Behind Papyrus’ back, the sauce within the pot bubbled over, splashing onto the stovetop with a loud hiss, dragging Sans’ attention away from the situation at hand for a second. A second too long. Quick to exploit Sans’ distraction, Papyrus darted forward and grabbed onto the hem of Sans’ sweater. The fabric was dragged upwards before Sans could so much as think about reacting. A soft, cyan glow filled the space between Sans and Papyrus as the swollen belly was exposed.

Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.

An eternity appeared to pass before Papyrus spoke again, voice soft and uncharacteristically shaky, “S-Sans?”

The sweater fell from Papyrus’ lax grip and Sans was quick to cover up what had been left vulnerable. “Ah, uh… surprise?”

Papyrus’ mouth opened, then shut again, blinking twice which caused a few tears to run down his cheeks and leave twin trails of orange behind. Panicked and never quite certain how to deal with a crying Papyrus, Sans continued, “So, there you have it! The, ah, the reason why I sometimes throw up and wear a lot of layers.”

“I do not… understand.” Papyrus ran a trembling hand over the tear tracks marring his face, smearing the half-congealed liquid across his cheekbones. “This is not something you should have felt the need to keep hidden. Why did you not tell me, Sans?”

“I don’t know!” Sans wailed. “I don’t know, Paps, I really don’t. I felt like I needed time to figure things out by myself, I was scared! This wasn’t planned, I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

Papyrus’ brow ridges creased. “What do you mean?”

“I… d’you remember that day I came home late and couldn’t read you your bedtime story?”

“Of course I do,” Papyrus huffed.

“Right, right. I, ah, I lied. I wasn’t at the observatory.”

“So where-? Wait. You were at Grillby’s, were you not? Sans! Did you-! With Grillby?” Papyrus squawked, long arms flailing through the air for a moment. “I cannot believe you, Sans! Why would you not tell me about your relationship?”

“Because there’s no relationship to tell you about, Papyrus!” Sans cried, rubbing his palms over the curve of his skull. “I didn’t even talk to Grillby about any of this, yet, we had a little too much to drink and weren’t careful! I just… I just wanted to have some time to myself and think things through!”

“It’s been months, Sans! By the stars, what were you thinking keeping _this_ a _secret_!” Papyrus’ voice grew louder with every word. “You could have turned to _dust_ , if your magic had not been strong enough! Why do you never ask for help when you need it, I do not understand!”

At Papyrus words, the sheer weight of Sans’ fear-driven decision came crashing down on him. How could he have been so stupid to risk his own life like this? The child's life? Overwhelmed, Sans buried his face in his hands. A small sob filled with acidic shame escaped his mouth.

 “Sans…” Soft and strained, Papyrus’ voice no longer held the note of disappointed anger, but instead was thick with guilt. “Sans… I am sorry. I did not mean to yell at you, big brother, do not cry, please.”

Peering through his fingers, Sans shook his head. “’s fine, Pappers. I guess, to me, not saying anything was easier than trying to think of the right words.”

Instead of responding, Papyrus reached out and, with a loud sniffle, dragged Sans from the chair into a gentle hug. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sans wrapped his arms around Papyrus. They would be alright.


	5. Amnion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter. I hate it. It's awful and it took me two weeks to write this piece of garbage. I am sorry for every error you find, for it is the result of me not wanting to deal with this chapter for longer than necessary today.  
> I will edit it tomorrow. For now, please enjoy. If you can.

At some point, Papyrus had decided the kitchen was not the appropriate place to hug things out and moved them both onto the living room couch, after turning off the stove. There they now sat in relative silence, arms wrapped around one another, still. With the side of his skull resting against Papyrus’ sternum, Sans was close to nodding off to the sound of his brother’s breathing, when Papyrus cleared his throat, startling him back into wakefulness. “Sans?”

“Yeah, Paps?” Sans mumbled.

“May I see…?”

“Huh?” Pushing himself upright, Sans scooted backwards until he was able to squint at his brother’s face. “See what?”

“Sans, you know what I mean!” Papyrus huffed, cheeks taking on a vibrant tangerine glow as he prodded his finger against Sans’ abdomen. “ _This_. May I?”

“Oh!” Sans snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Grasping the hem of his sweater, Sans tugged until his abdomen was revealed in all its gently glowing entirety. Still a neutral white, the tiny soul had settled close to the bulbous, opaque pseudo-womb, pulsing in a slow, steady rhythm. The womb itself had taken on a dark blue colour and was nestled a tad low within the barrier of Sans’ somewhat milky belly. All in all, it had become very obvious Sans was not at all the victim of too many plates of spaghetti.

A gasp of delight burst from Papyrus’ mouth before he leaned forward to peer at the clouded ectoplasm. Amused, Sans watched Papyrus, a tiny, awed smile brightening his little brother’s features, a spark of orange flitting through the darkness of Papyrus’ wide sockets. “Wowie, Sans! Can you feel them move? Do they even move? Is that a rude question to ask?”

Sans chuckled, “I don’t mind you asking questions, Pappers, you know that. Anyway, the soul moved around a lot at first, but ever since they attached themselves to the womb – that’s the dark blue blob right there – the kid’s been pretty stationary. Alphys is doing her best to dig up information about skeleton… everything, but since a lot of stuff was lost during the war, she hasn’t been very successful.”

“I see… perhaps we should ask Toriel for help, then?” Papyrus offered, touching his palms to Sans’ abdomen, a frown crawling across his face a moment later. “Sans, what happened? Your magic is so weak, again!”

“Paps, what did I say about checking my stats without permission?” Sans grumbled and flicked his fingertip against his younger brother’s forehead.

Papyrus scoffed. “You said I should not do it. But that is of no matter right now! You were doing a lot better after our visit to Undyne’s and Alphys’ house! I do not understand why you are so much worse again!”

Sans huffed. “It’s because Alphys donated some of her own magic to help out. I was going to ask Toriel to do the same today, but, as you know, I came home kind of late. The kid needs a ridiculous amount of magic to develop and without a partner, there’s just my magic for them to use up, you know?”

“Oh!” Papyrus gasped, his hands taking on a familiar orange glow. "I will donate my own magic, then! Prepare yourself!”

Taking in the determination glinting in his little brother’s eyes, Sans drawled, “Wow, that sounded kind of ominous, there, Pappers. Guess there’s nothing I can say to convince you I’d be fine for today, huh?”

A wide grin curved Papyrus’ mouth, revealing the sharp points of his canines. “Nothing at all!”

With a tiny chuckle, Sans relaxed into the couch cushions as Papyrus’ magic seeped into him in smooth, controlled waves. This time, the tiny soul did not shy away from the new source of energy. Of course, whether their lack of movement was due to Papyrus’ magic being familiar enough not to frighten them, or because they simply could no longer move from their current spot, Sans did not know. He liked to think it was the first option.

As the seconds ticked by, Sans felt the strain on his body lessen, the magic Papyrus provided him with more than bolstering his own. Soon, Sans’ belly started to shine with excess magic, the sight somewhat comical within the dimness of the living room. Finally, Papyrus’ hands lost their orange tint and Sans was a little concerned to find his brother’s forehead covered in little pearls of tangerine sweat.

“You alright there, Paps? You kind of went a little overboard there.”

“I am well!” Papyrus smiled, patting Sans’ belly with both hands. “Your belly is so warm, brother!”

“Heh, yeah.” Sans gave an awkward grin and scratched at his cheekbone. “Guess it’s because of the kid’s other parent… Anyway, I’m not about to complain, it’s pretty nice when the blanket’s cold.”

With a half-suppressed snicker, Papyrus straightened up and attempted to school his features into a stern expression. “Speaking of the child’s other parent… when do you intend on telling Grillby about this, Sans? I… I mean, you _will_ be telling Grillby, right? You have been friends for a very long time, after all! I am sure he will support you, just like your friends and I will!”

Uncomfortable, Sans rubbed his hands over the top of his skull and cleared his throat. “I tried to tell Grillby today, it’s just… difficult. To find the right words. I can’t just blurt it out, Pappers. Not to mention the uncertainty of how Grillby will react is terrifying.”

For a second, Papyrus seemed to deflate, only to sigh and give a curt nod. “Alright! Then I shall continue to be the best brother you could wish for, by not pressuring you into revealing your pregnancy to Grillby! In addition, I will do my best to help you find the correct words and your courage for whenever you are ready to tell Grillby!”

“Heh, thanks, little bro. You’re going to be a great uncle, I can already tell,” Sans laughed as he tugged his sweater back into place.

“Of course! I will be-” Papyrus broke off, sockets widening.

The abrupt silence prompted Sans to reach out and tap his fingertips against Papyrus’ cheekbone, hoping to rouse his brother. “Uh, Paps? You okay?”

“Sans!” Papyrus screamed, his volume so far beyond what was acceptable even for Papyrus’ standards, Sans almost toppled right off the couch in fright. “Sans, I am to be an uncle! An _uncle_ , Sans!”

Relieved and unable to help himself, Sans covered his face with both hands and began to laugh, slipping downwards until only his upper body remained on the sofa. Undeterred, Papyrus continued to squawk, his words soon running into one another, creating a stream of unintelligible noise. Neither of them noticed Frisk standing at the bottom of the stairs, until the child cleared their throat and stomped their foot onto the parquet floor.

Papyrus halted in his violent babbling to twist around and exclaim, “Frisk!”

Wiping away a stray tear from his left eye, Sans turned his head to grin at Frisk. “Heya, kiddo. Did you sleep well?”

Frisk nodded and toddled closer, hands waving through the air. _You were very loud_!

“Heh, yeah. Sorry for waking you up, sweet pea. You know how my brother is; he likes for the neighbourhood to know when he’s excited.” Sans struggled back onto the couch and sprawled out against the cushions.

“I do not care for the neighbourhood, Sans!” Papyrus scoffed, then reached out to pluck Frisk off the ground and plant them onto the sofa beside himself. “But I am still very sorry for waking you, Frisk! It was not my intention!”

The child shook their head with a sleepy smile. _No worries_!

“But I must worry, Frisk! Children such as yourself need sleep and lots of nutritious food to properly function! In addition – oh my stars! _The spaghetti_!” Papyrus slipped from the couch, dashing towards the kitchen, his flailing, gangly limbs making him look like a new born giraffe.

Sans pushed his hands into the pockets of his sweater with a snort. “Think I should’ve told him he turned the stove off before we came out here, kiddo?”

Frisk shrugged and giggled. _Maybe? Why was Papyrus shouting?_

“Because he thought he burned the pasta sauce, sweet pea,” Sans replied, a smile tilting his mouth when Frisk scooted closer to tuck themselves against his side. “You know making spaghetti is serious business.”

The child huffed, eyes twinkling with amusement as they signed, _Not what I meant, silly!_

“Heh, should’ve known you wouldn’t be fooled, kiddo.” For a moment, Sans contemplated lying to the laughing child beside him, banishing the thought mere seconds later. Drawing in a deep breath, Sans continued, “Tell you what, sweet pea, after dinner, I’ll explain to you what’s going on, alright?”

Frisk nodded and leaned their cheek against Sans’ with a tired sigh. Wiggling his arm around the child’s small shoulders, Sans tucked Frisk close and gave a quick ruffle to the tousled mop of hair. Sans was definitely sending Frisk to bed early today, otherwise Toriel would have his head.

Twenty minutes of comfortable silence passed before Papyrus’ voice sounded from the kitchen, calling them to dinner. Bowls full of spaghetti were waiting for them, the scent of Bolognese sauce hung thick in the air and Sans could not believe just how much he had missed being able to eat Papyrus’ favourite dish without a bout of nausea ruining the experience.

“Looks good, Papyrus,” Sans complimented as he sat down in his designated seat and reached for the fork, eager to start eating.

Chest puffed out with pride, Papyrus dropped down onto his own chair. “Thank you, Sans! It has been a while since you’ve been this excited about eating!”

“Heh, yeah, been a while since I could enjoy your pasta, bro. Guess I kind of missed it,” Sans grinned, sticking the fork into the middle of the noodles as soon as Frisk had settled beside Papyrus.

“I, too, am pleased you are no longer forced to waste precious spaghetti by throwing them up!” Papyrus crowed, almost knocking over his glass of juice when he reached out to keep Frisk from face planting into their plate of sauce-soaked noodles. “Frisk, we do not sleep in our food. Sleeping is what beds and, on occasion, couches are for!”

Not at all chastised, Frisk blew a kiss in Papyrus’ direction and, without waiting for either of them, began to eat.

Dinner ended up being a somewhat messy affair. While neither Frisk nor Sans were keen on holding a proper conversation, Papyrus was very enthusiastic in filling the air with upbeat chatter and wide-swept gestures. Some noodles went flying, and a ladleful of sauce ended up on Sans’ pullover when he was startled into a fit of laughter by an unexpected pun uttered by none other than Papyrus himself. It only got worse from there on out.

By the time their plates were empty, Sans was in need of a bath and the kitchen table resembled a warzone. Almost twenty minutes were spent on scrubbing the table clean and picking dried spaghetti noodles from the floor. Frisk was soon banished to the living room by Papyrus, since they were not above stuffing coagulated bits of sauce and spaghetti into their mouth to avoid doing actual work. Sans might have experienced a sense of pride at the child’s display of utter laziness. However, it could have just as well been disgust he had felt.

An hour later, after Sans had taken a throughout shower, the three of them were now settled on the plush carpet in front of the couch. Frisk had adamantly refused to go to bed until Sans spilled the beans, sporting an expression which could have rivalled Toriel’s most notorious glare in its intensity. Sans would have been lying, had he said he was not a tiny bit frightened.

“Ah, so...” Sans cleared his throat. “Guess you’re waiting for the explanation, huh?”

Frisk gave a decisive nod.

“Alright. Ah… Paps? Frisk wants to know why you were so excited before dinner. Help me out here.” Sans nudged his brother’s elbow, startling Papyrus away from attempting to stare the Memory cards into submission. “Explaining stuff is not exactly my forte.”

“Indeed it is not!” Papyrus cleared his throat. “I, the Great Papyrus, was excited because I am to be an uncle in a few months’ time!”

Frisk blinked, slow and deliberate. _Uncle?_

“Yes! Because Sans is to be a mother!” At Papyrus’ words, Sans felt his skull grow hot with embarrassment. “Sans! You must show them! Showing is always better than telling! Mettaton says so and Mettaton is always right! … Or at least, when it comes to certain aspects in life. He is not very knowledgeable when it comes to cooking! _Nyeh-heh-he_!”

The child turned to face Sans, eyes wide and shining with curiosity. Perhaps, Sans should have attempted to explain everything by himself. After all, Papyrus was Sans’ brother, it should have been logical he would be even worse at explanation than Sans.

Resigned to his fate, Sans tugged the fabric of his sweater upwards to reveal the glowing sphere of his abdomen. For a brief second, Frisk seemed frozen in place, hands hovering in the air. Then, they puffed out their cheeks and planted both of their palms atop Sans’ belly, leaning in to squint at the tiny soul.

“Uh.” Sans pressed the tips of his fingers against Frisk’s forehead. “Kiddo? You doing alright, there?”

They did not respond. Instead, Frisk began to drum their fingertips against the smooth ectoplasm and even blew a small raspberry just above the spot where the soul had settled, prompting a peal of laughter to fall from Sans’ mouth. By the time Frisk was done examining their newest discovery, Sans’ guffaws had turned into breathless giggling.

Wearing a contemplative frown, Frisk sat up and began to sign. _Did you eat someone?_

Wheezing, Sans shook his head, tears of mirth pricking at his sockets. “ _Ha-he-heh_! Did I-? No! No, Frisk, that’s… _ha-heh-heh_! I’m… uh, pregnant. I’m having a baby.”

 _P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T?_ Frisk signed the word slowly, their eyes growing wider with every letter they spelled. _Baby?_

“Yeah. That’s right, kiddo, there’s going to be a baby screaming down the house real soon,” Sans replied, grunting when Frisk threw their short arms around his neck with a raspy giggle a mere second later. “Whoa! Easy there, sweet pea!”

Sans had not expected for Frisk to be this excited. Then again, he had also not expected for Papyrus to blow up on him earlier. With a gentle sigh, Sans returned Frisk’s embrace, tucking the child close to his chest. Papyrus joined their hug-pile a second later, long arms winding around them both in a firm, yet tender, hold.

A soft silence enveloped them room for a few minutes, before Papyrus decided to break it by speaking, “Will the child really scream the house down, Sans? It is such a nice house, I do not want to have to move to another!”

Sans snorted. “It’s a figure of speech, Paps. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, good!” Papyrus said, relief tinting his voice.

Frisk patted their small hands against the back of Sans’ skull twice before sitting up to start signing again, _How?_

Right. Sans could not believe he had thought he would be able to get out of explaining this particular aspect of monster pregnancy to Frisk. “Uh… you see, if two monsters enjoy each other’s company very much… they… ah… well, do something called… soul-sharing. And, sometimes, a baby happens.”

Pushing out their bottom lip in a thoughtful pout, Frisk continued, _But… you are a boy, right?_

“Uh, yeah? What does that have to do with- oh, wait, I get it. I forgot you humans work a little differently. You see, it doesn’t matter if a monster is male or female, since we’re all made of magic. Whichever monster has the bigger magical reserves usually ends up pregnant.” Sans was a little proud of himself for not stumbling over his own words this time around. “Make sense?”

 _Yes!_ Frisk giggled, then leaned in a little closer, eyes sparkling with a disconcerting amount of mischief. _If you are the Mom, who is the Dad?_

“Eh…” Sans ran his hand over the top of his skull, scratching at the vertical line of his sagittal suture. “It’s… complicated.”

“It is not,” Papyrus scoffed from his spot behind Sans. “Grillby is the father! But Sans has not yet told him, which is why I must ask you not to do so, either, Frisk. Will you promise not to tell Grillby?”

 _Promise!_ Frisk tapped their fingertips against Sans’ chin. _Why are you scared?_

Damn this child and their ability to see right through him. Sans shrugged. “Sometimes, life is just plain scary, kiddo. Being a grown-up can be pretty frightening, you know? Even little mistakes can have some serious consequences.”

Sighing, Frisk scooted down and planted their chin atop Sans’ belly. _Silly._

“Yep, that’s me,” Sans chuckled, ruffling Frisk’s hair with a practise movement. “Mr Silly Skeleton. Should’ve known you’d figure me out. Anyway… what do you think, kiddo? You ready to become an honorary cousin?”

A thumbs-up was his answer, accompanied by a wide grin.

“Heh, thought so.”

“Wait!” Papyrus exclaimed. “Does this mean Frisk is now my honorary nibling?”

Oh dear.


	6. Incendere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the long wait, Uni and work were kicking my butt and I was also very unhappy with the chapter while writing. Uh, so, ah... enjoy?  
> Also, I am sorry for any errors.

Hands cupping the obvious swell of his belly, Sans sighed. Four months had gone by since Sans had discovered the little soul, and while he no longer suffered through bouts of nausea, the progressing growth of his abdomen had brought along endless other problems. One of them being the increased difficulty of hiding the bulge.

Another being the obvious bursts of lethargy Papyrus had begun to suffer from. Where Sans had become a lot more active, sharing his magic on an almost weekly basis was starting to take its toll on Papyrus. Something which would not go without notice much longer, considering how suspicious Undyne had been when Papyrus fell asleep in his spaghetti at their last week’s get-together.

“ _Nyeh_! Sans, it has started to snow again! Is there not enough snow already? I do not understand, no matter where you want to go, it takes twice as long as usual!” Papyrus exclaimed and slapped his gloved hand against the steering wheel, urging the car around the next corner.

“Told you I could have just taken a shortcut to Grillby’s, Paps,” Sans drawled. “There was no need for you to drive me. I just wanted to go and chat for an hour.”

Papyrus scoffed. “You will not be taking any shortcuts for a while, brother! Yesterday, you ended up shortcutting into the fridge instead of the bathroom! As long as your magic misbehaves, I will not allow you to use a single shortcut. Who knows where you might land next!”

Tapping his fingertips against his chin, Sans hummed. “Well, I could have walked, too, I guess, it’s not that far-”

A rather squeaky noise of despair erupted from Papyrus’ mouth. “I will not allow you to expose my nibling to this weather, Sans! Not to mention you are horrible at telling the time, and I do not want to be late for dinner at Undyne’s again, so it is only logical for me to accompany you.”

“Oh. Yeah, I forgot that was today.”

“ _Nyeh-he-he_!” Papyrus snickered as he brought the car to a rocky halt, shutting down the motor and yanking the handbrake upwards. “I knew you would! Which is why it was a very good idea for me to accompany you!” 

“Heh. Yeah, you’re right, bro.”

A few minutes later, they finally pushed open the door to Grillby’s bar. Pleasant warmth and the scent of charred wood greeted Sans, sending a slow shiver down his spine. Not allowing himself to linger, Sans shook off the comfortable weight spreading through his limbs and moved towards the bar. Papyrus trudged on after him, mumbling under his breath. Sans was certain he heard the words “grease” and “slip hazard” at least twice.

Only a handful of guests occupied the small restaurant, none of which had settled at the bar, much to Sans’ delight. Soft music seeped from the familiar jukebox in the corner, distorting the quiet conversations floating about the restaurant into unintelligible mumblings. Walking straight towards his usual spot at the right side corner of the polished counter, Sans climbed onto the seat and cleared his throat, “Hey, Grillbz.”

The fire elemental turned his head, jagged mouth parting to form an endearing smile. “Hello, Sans. What brings you here?”

“Eh, thought I could pay you a visit, it’s been a while. Also, Papyrus offered me a ride, and you know how much I love not having to move around by myself.” Sans reached for the ketchup bottle Grillby had nudged towards him, just to have the container snatched from his grasp by Papyrus. “Aw, come on, Paps!”

“No ketchup today, Sans. You should have a glass of milk instead!” Papyrus chided, slumping onto the barstool beside Sans. “Hello, Grillby! I would like two glasses of milk, please, my brother could use a little more calcium and a lot less grease in his diet!”

“Of course,” Grillby chuckled, turning away to prepare Papyrus’ order. “I am surprised to see you here, too, Papyrus. I cannot recall the last time you willingly entered my restaurant. You usually do your best to avoid having to come here.”

“Yes, because I am not at all a fan of grease! But Sans wished to come and I could not allow him to go out by himself in this weather!” Papyrus replied, nudging his elbow against Sans’ side. “Especially in his condition!”

“ _Papyrus_!” Sans yelped, attempting to smack his palm against his brother’s traitorous mouth. “Stop!”

Reeling away from Sans, Papyrus clasped his hands in front of his chest and cried, “Oh no, please forget I said anything, Grillby! Sans made me promise not to tell, and I almost did!”

“I see,” Grillby said, his voice level and tinged with suspicion. “Is this to do with your recent issues regarding your magic, Sans? Are you ill again?”

“N-no! No, I’m fine. Paps is just being a worrywart again,” Sans stammered, a wobbly smile on his face as he waved his hands through the air in a placating gesture. “R-right, Pappers?”

“Ah… y-yes?” Papyrus squeaked.

Eyes narrowing behind the lit barrier of his spectacles, Grillby placed a glass of milk in front of Papyrus first before pushing a second one in Sans’ direction. “You are a very bad liar, Sans. I will never force you into telling me, but if there is something keeping you from accessing your magic properly, then it is time for you to consult a specialist, don’t you think?”

Sans’ smile slipped and he wrapped his hands around the cold milk glass. Mouth parting in a soft sigh, Sans averted his eyes and took to counting the various bottles lining the shelves behind Grillby. “It’s not that. My magic is kind of wonky right now, yeah, but… it’s not because… because I’m ill or… or something. Listen, Grillby, I… there’s…”

“There is what, Sans?” Grillby prompted, a hint of concern tinting his speech.

Agitated, Sans shook his head and began to ramble, “There’s something… something I want – no – _need_ to tell you. But… ah… not now? Maybe sometimes later. Maybe tomorrow? In a week, probably, II… I need to… it’s hard to explain. Well, not that hard, it’s just-!”

Warm, gentle hands cupped Sans’ face, startling him into silence. Grillby brushed his thumbs along Sans’ cheekbones, leaning across the counter to touch their foreheads together. It was a gesture Sans had become very accustomed to, even before their friendship had turned into something more intimate. He had not realised just how much he had missed being so close to Grillby.

“Breathe, Sans,” Grillby murmured.

A spark of magic, smooth and almost hot, flowed into Sans from the tender contact, soothing away some of the nervousness settled deep inside his chest. An instant later, Sans felt the tiny soul within his belly respond with a flutter of their own, fledgling magic. The sensation brought forth the burn of unwanted tears, the thick liquid pearling along the lower curve of Sans’ socket. It was almost enough to push Sans into telling Grillby everything.

Almost.

It took a few, shaky inhales, but Sans managed to regain some semblance of control and even succeeded in constructing a convincing smile for Grillby’s sake. “Heh, sorry. Guess the conversation kind of… ended up _rattling my bones_ a little more than I expected it would?”

Straightening up with a chuckle, Grillby patted Sans’ cheeks. “Indeed.”

Grabbing onto Grillby’s fingers, Sans spoke again, “Listen, I want to tell you. I really do, because you deserve to know. But… ah, I… need to figure out _how_ to tell you. Can you give me a few more days? Please?”

A soft expression stole across Grillby’s blazing features, his flames tinged with a slight, pinkish hue. “Of course, Sans. Take however much time you need.”

“Thanks, Grillby.”

The small bell above the door rang out as a giggling couple stumbled in from the cold. With a soft, reassuring squeeze, Grillby released Sans’ hands and moved away to attend to the newcomers. Deflating in his seat, Sans took a swig from his milk glass. Papyrus, who had stayed quiet until now, cleared his throat. “Sans? I’m… really sorry. I did not mean to cause you distress.”

“It’s fine, Pappers,” Sans assured, reaching out to rub his brother’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I, ah, might have gotten a little too worked up over all of this, it’s not your fault. Really.”

“Thank you, Sans.” Papyrus hummed, his downtrodden demeanour soon replaced by a mischievous one. “Anyway! I was not aware Grillby was so open with his affections, brother! A kiss in such an open setting! I am very impressed!”

“Wh-what!” Sans sputtered. “That’s not-! He was just helping me calm down, Papyrus! Fire elementals don’t kiss like skeletons do!”

“Oh? How _do_ they kiss, then?”

Sans blinked. “Uh… I have no idea, actually.”

With his brows ridge raised in disbelief, Papyrus lifted his glass of milk to his mouth. “Then how do you know they do _not_ kiss like skeletons do?”

Sans was ready to retort, but shut his mouth with an audible click as Papyrus’ words sank in just seconds later. For a few minutes, Sans sat and contemplated whether he knew anything at all about fire elementals, or had built his entire knowledge on assumptions he had made while observing Grillby. Finally, Sans admitted, “Fine. I do not know whether they kiss like skeletons. But, I’m still sure it was not a kiss. He’s been doing the forehead thing since we became close friends, long before we became… intimate.”

Papyrus emptied his glass and set it down with a snicker. “Maybe you should ask him then!”

“Eh… how about I don’t ask him and we just forget we ever had this conversation?”

“ _Nyeh-heh-he_. Alright, brother!”

For the next hour and a half, Sans did his very best to ignore his own nagging questions regarding the social interactions between fire elementals. Which proved rather difficult, seeing as Papyrus would start snickering like a small child whenever Grillby so much as touched Sans’ hand. Not to mention how cautious, Grillby now sounded whenever he addressed Sans.

At some point, the snowfall had let up and more customers began to trickle into the bar, bringing with them a loud, busy atmosphere. Soon, Grillby was too busy to spend more than a few minutes with the skeleton brothers. It was then Papyrus proposed for them to head out to Undyne’s a little early, to ensure they would not be late again. Somewhat eager to escape the uncomfortable tension soaking his bones, Sans agreed.

After bidding Grillby goodbye and reassuring the fire elemental he would soon return with a proper explanation, Sans followed Papyrus out into the cold evening air. They trudged through the ankle-deep snow towards the car, and, after removing the three inches of snow which had accumulated atop the vehicle, clambered inside. It took a few tries before the motor came to life, but once it did, Papyrus cranked up the heat to maximum before urging the car out onto the road.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at Undyne and Alphys’ home. Undyne greeted them at the door in her usual fashion, the hinges whining in terror as the strength of her exuberance hefted the door halfway out of its fixture. A cloud of white powder fogged the air, the flour sticking to her shirt, marring the dark blue fabric with pale spots. “You’re early for once, nerds! I’m impressed!”

“Yes, I insisted on leaving early this time, to ensure we would not be late!” Papyrus replied as the brothers stumbled out of the cold into the warm anteroom.  

The door was kicked shut a second later, rattling the picture hanging beneath the hook holding Alphys’ car keys. With an ungraceful snort and a mouth stretched into a wide shark-grin, Undyne pushed her fists into the flared curve of her hips, sending another plume of flour into the air. “Good job, Pap! Looks like we’ll be able to have dinner finished before Alphys comes home!”

Waving his arms through the air to disperse the alarming amount of flour particles, Papyrus coughed, “Indeed!”

The fine powder tickled Sans’ nose, his elbow rising to cover his mouth. For a few seconds, Sans inhaled shallow breath after shallow breath, only lowering his arm when the urge to sneeze began to pass. A big mistake. Just seconds after Sans had stuffed his hand back into the pocket of his jacket, his body jerked forward with a violent sneeze.  

Eyes screwed shut, Sans groaned as he rubbed his sleeve over his itching nasal bridge with a loud sniffle. Everything hurt. The insides of Sans’ nose and mouth felt as if they had been scorched, and his back ached as if he had pulled a non-existent muscle.

“What the hell!” Undyne screeched.

Papyrus seemed to share Undyne’s sentiment, if the wailing coming from his little brother was any indication. Exasperated, Sans opened his eyes and was just about to question their reaction, when the scent of burnt leather invaded Sans’ tortured olfactory senses. Confusion washed over Sans at the sight of Papyrus’ mouth hanging open as a continuous cry of shocked disbelief spilled from it. What was going on?

Finally, Papyrus managed to wrench himself back under control and proceeded to shout, “Sans! _Why_? I have had these boots for less than a month, why must you do this to me, I do not understand!”

Gaze dropping, Sans choked. No longer were Papyrus’ boots a pristine burgundy red. Instead the leather was now discoloured by streaks of black and cracking in some places, the laces clumped together in a mess of molten polyester. “What the-?”

“You _sneezed_ and _fire_ came out!” Undyne crowed.

“Oh.” Sans scratched at his cheekbone. “That’s new.”

“New?” Undyne crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You want to, maybe, elaborate on that, nerd? Is this about how Alphys and you spent an hour down in the nerd cellar every time you and Pap come over for a visit?”

Shrugging off the panic crawling up his spine, Sans laughed, “ _Hah-he-he_. Uh, maybe?”

Undyne’s single eye narrowed, a snarl twisting her lips upwards and exposing the upper row of her jagged teeth. “Alright, short stack. I can tell when someone doesn’t want to talk, so when you figure out where you put your bravery, I’d like an explanation for the burn marks on my rug.”

Papyrus groaned, “The reason for Sans’ destructive sneezing is not important right now, Undyne! My boots have been ruined once again and I am not happy!”

“Sorry, Pappers,” Sans sighed, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. “I didn’t expect for that to happen. I’ll try to keep my head turned away from your shoes, next time I feel the need to sneeze.”

“That would be very much appreciated!” Papyrus groused, leaning down to drag the blackened boots off his socked feet. “I should not be forced to buy a new pair of boots every other month. The people at the shoe store already think I am not quite right in the head for buying the same pair of boots over and over again!”

Removing his own sneakers, Sans snickered. “I thought it was kind of funny how confused they all looked when you showed up again.”

“ _Ngah_!” Undyne roared. “Enough talking! Papyrus, hurry up already, we need to start on the lasagne!”

Half an hour later, Sans sat curled up in the too-large basket chair overtaking most of Undyne and Alphys’ living room, after Papyrus had declared him a nuisance in the kitchen. A notion Sans agreed with wholeheartedly, seeing as he had done his best to be as unhelpful as possible and park his behind in the very seat he was now occupying. Mostly because Undyne had made one too many comments about his midsection.

Something large and heavy clattered to the ground, prompting Sans to look towards the kitchen. A cacophony of laughter and Mew Mew Kissie-Cutie songs came spilling out of the doorway a moment later, the latter for which Sans had no explanation whatsoever. Sans hoped, whatever was happening, would not end up in another ruined stove.

Or another house-devouring fire.

The clearing of a throat sounded from behind Sans, startling him from his musings. Tilting his head, Sans met Alphys’ narrowed eyes, a tiny smile twisting her snout. “Heya, Alphys. When did you get home?”

“A-about a m-minute ago. A-are you here for a-another check-up?” Another crash came from the kitchen, the noise a little more concerning this time, causing Alphys to jump in fright. “O-oh!”

“Yeah, no, Undyne invited Papyrus and me for dinner. They’ve been wreaking havoc in the kitchen for about twenty minutes now,” Sans replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Your wife’s also been very helpful in reminding me just how _chubby_ I have become. Which would not be an issue, if Undyne had stopped after the fifth comment.”

“Oh, I-! I am so s-sorry, Sans, you kn-know how she is!” Alphys cried, covering her cheeks with her hands as the scales below her eyes began to darken with embarrassment.

“ _Alphys_!” Undyne’s shout was the only warning they received before the fish monster came barrelling out of the kitchen straight into Alphys, causing them both to tumble onto the ground in a painful heap. “You’re home! Did Momma-To-Be already whine about me making comments about his belly to you?”

“ _Momma to_ -! Alphys!” Sans snapped. “You promised not to tell!”

“Oh, hush up,” Undyne drawled, a grin on her face. “I didn’t become Captain of the Royal Guard because I’m so good at suplexing boulders, numbskull. Now start explaining.”

Resigned to the fact he was horrible at keeping secrets, Sans sighed and complied.


	7. Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. Between my own issues with anxiety and my brother being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, I just didn't have the time nor headspace to write. I did draw a lot of silly things on my tumblr, though, so if you want to look at that or just come over to ask why there's no new chapter, my tumblr name is "theshyestpotato". 
> 
> Uh, that said, enjoy the chapter!

“So, basically, you’re four and a half months along, and Grillby still has no clue he’s about to be a Dad?” Undyne slapped her knee with a belting laugh. “Wow!”

Shoulders rising, Sans buried the lower half of his face in the cushy, bunched fabric of his hoodie’s neckline to hide the hint of blue colouring his cheekbones. While Undyne’s overall reaction was expected, Sans was still not very happy about being made fun of. So what if he had trouble confiding in others on occasion? Being honest was hard.

“There is nothing ‘wow’ about this, Undyne!” Papyrus stomped his socked foot onto the plush carpet. “Sans is very shy about telling others about the baby. Not even my ever supportive presence was enough to encourage him to speak to Grillby!”

“Hey, hey,” Sans grumbled. “I did promise to tell him in a few days. Give me a break, Pappers, New Home wasn’t built in a day either, you know?”

Papyrus huffed. “Yes, I do know! I But this knowledge will not stop me from making sure that you keep your promise!”

“Actually,” Undyne grinned. “This sort of reminds me of that time when Papyrus refused to tell Sans about his cute little dates with Mettaton for a month or so? Right, Alphys?”

Alphys chuckled, scratching at the miniscule frills lining the edge of her jaw. “A l-little, yes.”

Papyrus’ face turned a rather concerning shade of orange while his mouth twisted into a large pout. Then, with his arms crossed tight in front of his chest, Papyrus turned and stalked away to vanish past the kitchen door. A second later, Papyrus’ voice rang out alongside the sound of the cutlery drawer being yanked open, “You are all dead to me for the next ten minutes!”

Undyne snorted, the sound rough and almost painful. “Pap, you’re such a weenie!”

A loud bang was the only response. Sans guessed Papyrus had dropped one of the pot lids in frustration. Tucking his socked feet between two pillows, Sans waved his left arm through the air in a vague gesture to catch Undyne’s attention. “So, if there’s no more questions and everyone’s quite done making fun of me, I’d love to get back to lazing around until dinner’s ready, if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Undyne drawled and smacked her palms down onto her muscular thighs before standing from where she had been sitting on the couch. “I’ll go make sure Pap doesn’t start another pot of sauce out of anger, I don’t want to eat spaghetti sauce for a week again!”

“Big words for someone who thought it was enough to teach my bro how to cook noodles but nothing else,” Sans mumbled, watching as Undyne barged into the kitchen with an unintelligible roar which was soon joined by Papyrus’ terrified screaming. “Think we should go and make sure no one’s getting suplexed in there?”

Alphys snickered, plopping down onto the spot Undyne had vacated. “Th-they’ll be f-fine, I’m s-sure! U-Undyne w-wouldn’t risk burning d-down our home o-or something!”

Sans grinned and let his head drop against the cushioned backrest of the basket chair. “Heh, yeah, guess you’re right. Say, is anyone else coming over? I noticed Undyne cleared off the big dining table instead of just setting the kitchen table.”

“Oh! Y-yes, we invited F-Frisk and Toriel. We h-haven’t been able to sp-spent a lot of them with either of them, y-you know? So we thought having t-them here for spaghetti dinner w-would be a good idea,” Alphys smiled, then furrowed the scaled ridges of her brow. “Should w-we have asked you f-first if inviting them was a good idea?”

“What?” Sans blinked at Alphys for a few moments, then laughed. “No! It’s fine, I love spending time with Tori and the kiddo, you know that! And Papyrus will be happy to have two more people there to appreciate his cooking.”

“Good! Good,” Alphys tittered. “Phew, I g-got nervous there f-for a second! Silly me!”

“It’s fine, Alphys.” Leaning forward with a grunt, Sans patted Alphys’ clawed hand once, twice, before slumping back against the cushions supporting his body.

Moving in any shape or form was becoming incredibly exhausting very fast. At least, no one was on his case about his constant need to sit at any given time. Especially since Papyrus followed Sans’ example of how to exert the least amount of energy possible more often than not, nowadays. Though, Sans did miss being called lazybones just a little bit.

“Th-thank you, Sans, I-”

Whatever it was Alphys had meant to tell Sans, it was interrupted by Papyrus’ rather dramatic re-emergence from the kitchen. 

“I have had it with you all!” Papyrus cried as he stumbled into the living room, apron wrapped around his legs and a dishtowel wrapped around his forehead. “This is mutiny! No one will get any spaghetti!”

Undyne’s reply was prompt, despite her not having stepped a foot out of the kitchen just yet. “It’s my house, you nerd, I say who gets spaghetti!”

“Wow, Pappers, what happened to you?” Sans laughed. “You’re looking a little _tied up_ there.”

“ _Sans_! I swear!” Arms flailing, Papyrus managed to trip his way towards the couch, where he almost sat on Alphys as he lowered himself down onto the cushions with as much dignity as the ruffled apron around his knees allowed. “Instead of making silly jokes, you should be helping me!”

“I would but… I’m a little _weighed down_ , myself, you know?” Sans cackled as another scream of despair escaped from between his brother’s grit teeth.

“You are the worst, Sans!” Papyrus whined and surged to his feet.

Laughing still, Sans readied himself to deliver another awful pun, when Papyrus’ face lost all anger-induced colour within the blink of an eye. In an instant, Sans’ smile drooped and he pushed himself upright, the bone between his brow ridges creased with concern. “Paps? Pappers? Hey, what’s wrong, are you al- _oh shit_!”

Without warning, Papyrus’ legs had buckled and it was sheer luck he fell backwards to land halfway atop the couch instead of toppling forward, where he would no doubt cracked open his head on the edge of the coffee table. Sans’ relief at this was short lived, however, seeing as Papyrus’ dangling bottom half soon began to drag the unresponsive skeleton towards the ground once more. Struggling to escape the comfortable cradle of the basket chair, Sans knew he would not be able to reach his little brother in time to prevent Papyrus’ head from landing on the parquet. “Alphys, his head-!”

Alphys, who had launched herself off the couch to avoid Papyrus’ crumbling body, scrambled upright and managed to wrap her short arms around Papyrus’ neck, keeping his head from meeting the hard floorboards. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sans slumped against the backrest of the chair. “Oh my stars, I think that startled about half of my HP off me.”

“D-don’t say that,” Alphys admonished, a nervous giggle in her voice.  

Alerted by the ruckus, Undyne came running into the living room and stopped in her tracks, her single eye widening in shock. “What the heck is going on? What happened?”

Half-heartedly attempting to excavate his burdened body from its basket chair prison once more, Sans replied, “Paps fainted.”

Undyne scoffed and moved to lift Papyrus’ limp body away from Alphys to place him onto the sofa. “What do you mean he fainted? Is he sick?”

“Not that I know of?” Sans mumbled, wiping at the anxious sweat beading at along his forehead. “He was fine when we left the bar, as far as I could tell. Uh, Alphys, can you… maybe check what’s wrong? _If_ anything is wrong? I mean, bad jokes never hurt anyone, right? _Hah-he-he_ … _he_?”

“I’m pretty sure if Papyrus had been human, he’d have had at least five heart attacks already because of your bad jokes, bonehead,” Undyne cackled, giving Papyrus’ clammy forehead a quick pat before turning her head to address Alphys. “Sunshine, think you can do Sans a favour and give Paps a quick look-over?”

“O-of course!” Alphys squeaked and clambered onto the couch beside Papyrus, planting her small hands atop the prone skeleton’s chest.

A buttery yellow glow illuminated the grooves of Alphys’ face for a few seconds, fading away as an unhappy curve twisted her snout. “Sans, h-how often h-has Papyrus been d-donating magic to you?”

“Uh… way too often, if you ask me. Why? Is that why he fainted?” Resting a hand atop the swell of his belly, Sans touched his free palm to his cheek. “I told him to take it easy, but he kept saying he was fine!”

Alphys sighed, “W-well, his m-magical reserves are close to depletion. O-other than that, he is very healthy a-and he should be waking up in a few m-minutes. I think the roughhousing just now e-exhausted him and his body shut d-down in self-defence. S-Sans, if at all possible, p-please have Papyrus c-cut back on the magic donations… we a-are all here for you. P-Papyrus doesn’t have to be afraid you’ll suffer from m-magic deprivation.”

“I can try to convince him, but you know how he is.” Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Sans glanced at Papyrus’ slack features.

Undyne gave a huff of a laugh, reaching out to flick her webbed finger against Sans’ forehead. “Like you’re one to talk. Paps and you are the same kind of dumb when it comes to taking care of yourselves!”

Before Sans could utter a word in edgewise, a  soft groan prompted them all into silence, eyes drawn to the stirring Papyrus. With baited breath they waited as Papyrus came to, still pale and looking very disoriented. After a few long seconds, Papyrus hissed and pushed himself upright with a grunt. “Ugh… what… what happened?”

“You kind of fainted.” Sans finally managed to wiggle out of the basket chair and stumbled to sit on the edge of the coffee table closest to Papyrus. “How’re you doing, buddy?”

“I feel dizzy,” Papyrus mumbled, rubbing at his left eye socket with a curled hand. “And my spine hurts.”

“Would’ve been surprised if you’d been fine, to be honest, Pappers. Told you to take it easy with the magic donations.” Sans rubbed his palm over his little brother’s skull. “You were lucky you didn’t drop straight to the floor, you know? Could’ve rattled your head something good.”

“Nyeh, I have a hard skull,” Papyrus attempted to smile, but seemed to have trouble getting the right side of his mouth to cooperate. “I would have been fine, no doubt!”

“Sure, Paps,” Sans grinned, pulling his hand away from Papyrus’ head. “But, uh, how about you take it easy for the rest of the day, huh? I mean, you already cooked most of the food and came with me to Grillby’s. I think you deserve a break.”

Papyrus’ sockets narrowed. “I do not need a break! I am perfectly fine to continue cooking the rest of the spaghetti!”

“Listen, Paps.” Sans fell back onto the voice he would use whenever ten-year-old Papyrus decided practising his bone attacks in the house was a good idea. “Your magic is so low, getting angry at my puns was enough to tip the scale and make you faint. You are staying on this couch until Alphys or I say otherwise.”

Chastised, Papyrus crossed his arms in front of his chest and flopped back down against the soft cushions decorating the couch. “Fine!”

Before Sans could open his mouth to offer another word of chiding, a distinct knock sounded from the direction of the front door.

“Th-that must be Toriel and F-Frisk!” Alphys gasped and hurried off to greet the newcomers.

Amused by the sudden look of dread blooming upon Papyrus’ features, Sans turned to look at Undyne and spoke, “Hey, how upset do you think Tori will be when she hears about Papyrus’ recent rendezvous with the floor?”

“Very. But I’m pretty sure she’ll get distracted when she realises no one’s had any kind of food, yet,” Undyne grinned. “Either that, or she’ll hone in on you when Papyrus explains why he fainted in the first place.”

“Ugh, don’t even start, I don’t want to be in any way forced to face Tori’s Glare of Disappointment. I swear, it’s like she knows exactly what to say and do to make you feel as horrible as possible about being an idiot.”

In the end Undyne’s prediction turned out to be correct. As soon as Papyrus explained how he had meant to keep Sans as healthy as possible, Toriel had redirected her glare and proceeded to scold Sans for worrying Papyrus to such an extent. The former queen’s ire did not last long, however, seeing as Papyrus was still very much adept at performing the puppy dog eyes. Not even Toriel stood a chance against them.

However, while Toriel’s worried anger had been calmed, her parental need to ensure everyone was fed and comfortable had raised its fluffy head. Which was why Sans now sat bundled into two blankets to stave off the consistent chill seemingly inhabiting his bones ever since the baby had deemed they would share their preferences in temperature with their other parent. Papyrus shared Sans’ predicament, lying stretched out across the couch like a tightly wrapped burrito with his head resting on a pair of pillows, fast asleep.

Toriel had retreated into the kitchen to finish what Papyrus could no longer. Undyne and Alphys had excused themselves soon after, stating they needed to prepare the guest rooms in case another snowstorm hit. Though, Sans was certain it did not take this long to change bedcovers and fluff some pillows. No matter how dedicated one was to proper bed-making.

 Then again, perhaps those two were busy making their own bed.

Frisk, always the resourceful one, had taken Papyrus’ inability to play with them in stride and settled right down on the carpet to play with the Legos stored in a discrete box hidden under the coffee table. Meanwhile, Sans did his best not to nod off. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Frisk. The child in question was in the process of building another Lego castle on the thick carpet in front of the TV, very much unaware of Sans’ troubles.

“Sans! Would you like to have a yogurt?” Toriel inquired, peeking out from the kitchen with a gentle smile on her face. “Dinner will take a little while longer, the sauce still needs to thicken, and you must be getting hungry by now, especially since you are eating for two!”

“Uh…” Sans floundered for a moment, caught off guard. “Ah… sure, Tori. A yogurt sounds good.”

“Alright!” Toriel chirped and vanished back into the kitchen once more.

Frisk snickered, drawing Sans’ attention. Raising their hands, Frisk signed, _Mom is really excited about the baby._

“I can tell,” Sans snorted. “And you’re having way too much fun watching your Momma flit around like a mama bird, kiddo.”

Frisk shrugged. _It’s fun!_

Sans rolled his eyes, a fond grin curving his mouth. “Of course.”

Toriel was even worse than Papyrus when it came to proper eating. Never in his life had Sans eaten so much fruit and vegetables, or been forced to ignore the siren call of sticky sweet soda to chug down litres of organic orange juice, with only a minimum of any kind of sugary treat in sight. Unexpected, considering the former queen had the biggest sweet-tooth this side of the Atlantic Ocean.

A small bowl cupped in both paws, Toriel exited the kitchen and placed the porcelain container into Sans’ duvet-covered lap. “I’ve added a few apple cubes and some banana slices to the yogurt, I hope this will tide you over until dinner is ready.”

“Thanks, Tori. Looks great,” Sans grinned, grasping the spoon sticking out of the yogurt like a stake.

“You’re very welcome, Sans.” Toriel touched her warm paw to the top of Sans’ head, giving it a gentle pat before she turned and made her way back into the kitchen.

As soon as Toriel had vacated the living room, Frisk began to giggle. With a shake of the head and an amused snort, Sans began to eat. Frisk would calm down by themselves at some point, of this Sans was certain. Whether they would cease finding Toriel’s constant need to mother him a laughing matter was a whole different question. However, Sans was quite sure the answer was ‘no’.

“How about you stop giggling, sweet pea, and instead help me eat all this yogurt.” Tilting the bowl in Frisk’s direction, Sans did his best to wiggle his brow ridges at the child. “It’s got lots of apple pieces in it, see?”

Eyes crinkled with mirth, Frisk scurried away from their Lego creation and climbed onto the basket chair beside Sans. A few pillows and blankets were pushed aside in an effort to reduce the amount of space Sans’ one-man duvet nest occupied. Once settled, Frisk opened their mouth and sat there unmoving, looking like a baby bird waiting for their parent to feed them.

 _Does Undyne know?_ Frisk asked, cheeks puffed out as they worked through the yogurt-soaked apple cubes Sans had fed them.

“Yep. But not because I told her, she found out all by herself,” Sans sighed, rolling his eyes when Frisk began to giggle at him. “Sans answered, eating a banana slice before offering the spoon to Frisk once more. “Should’ve guessed she’d find out. She’s got at connecting the dots, when she wants to be.”

 _Not when it comes to romance!_ Frisk snickered.

Sans laughed. “True! I remember when Undyne tried to learn how to use chopsticks. Man, there was ramen everywhere. We kept finding stray noodles for days afterwards. It’s part of the reason why we have been having our biweekly spaghetti dinner at Alphys and Undyne’s house for the past few months. Romance is clearly not Undyne’s strong suit.”

“Neither is it yours, Sans,” Toriel called out from the kitchen and Sans closed his eyes in mortification. “Perhaps you should read Papyrus’ dating book!”


	8. Sanitatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry this took so long. Real life can be kind of hard to deal with. Ech. Anyway, this chapter has not been checked over properly, though I did my best to proof read as I went. The story will be edited for errors when it is finished.   
> I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and I hope the next won't take over a month to complete! :)

Head in his hands, Sans closed his eyes and heaved an enormous sigh. The scent of burnt rug still hung in the air, and Alphys’ tentative attempt at soothing Sans by patting his skull with her claws did not help as much as either of them hoped. A few more seconds of tense silence passed before Sans straightened up and looked at the damage done.

The rug was ruined, a large black burn mark marring the otherwise pristine material.

Defeated, Sans exhaled a soft laugh. “Welp, guess I owe you a new rug now, Alphys. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Th-that’s okay, Sans! Undyne a-and I wanted to b-buy a new rug soon, a-anyway,” Alphys soothed, letting her clawed hand settle on the curve of Sans’ parietal bone. “A-are you alright? That l-looked really painful.”

“Heh, it’s not pleasant, that’s for sure.” Sans rubbed at his ectoplasmic throat. “Kinda hurts, actually. In addition, my mouth tastes like I ate a shovelful of coal.”

Alphys tittered and gave one last pat to Sans’ skull before moving away towards the small fridge by the wall. A moment later, Sans found himself being handed a cold bottle of mineral water and did not hesitate to drain half of its contents to rid himself of the awful taste lingering in the crevices of his mouth. Hopefully, this particular symptom of pregnancy would be history soon. Or, at least, become a little more manageable.

“Thanks, Alph,” Sans sighed as he screwed the bottle shut. “So, uh, how about we continue with the check-up before I burn the rug entirely?”

“Ah, y-yes,” Alphys scuttled off to retrieve her equipment. “P-please warn me, if you have to sneeze again, though!”

“Will do,” Sans chortled, flicking lint from the knee of his jeans. “Just hope I’ll be able to warn you in time, to be honest. These things tend to take everyone by surprise, you know? I mean, have you ever expected a sneeze?”

“N-no,” Alphys shook her head with a tiny laugh. “I g-guess I haven’t. S-still! If at all possible, p-please, try not to set a-anything potentially explosive on f-fire. Buying a n-new stove twice already was e-expensive enough, heh.”

Unable to help himself, Sans snorted and regretted his lack of self-control just seconds later, when his singed throat gave a sharp twinge in response. Allowing his skull to drop back against the headrest, Sans watched his lab partner gather up various gadgets and cables. By the end of it, Sans was impressed Alphys had not yet toppled over from the sheer amount of paraphernalia clutched within her arms. “You need a hand there, Alph?”

“I a-appreciate the offer, but y-you are not supposed to lift heavy th-things, Sans,” Alphys replied, moving towards Sans on unsteady legs. “I’ll b-be doing a full check-up this t-time, I w-want to see if your magical reserves display a-any kind of major changes.”  

Once close enough, Alphys unceremoniously dumped her equipment onto the low coffee table occupying the ruined carpet. Within the course of the next ten minutes, Sans was hooked up to a number of machinery via colourful cables. A consistent cacophony of monotone beeping and whirring sounded as Alphys activated the equipment, screens and tiny LED lights coming to life one by one. Through half-lidded eyes, Sans observed the thick line measuring his magic drag itself across the smallest screen in slow, steady ups and downs. “Looks like it levelled out, Alphys. This is definitely a lot more sedate than last time.”

“Oh, yes! Th-that is very good.” Alphys smiled as she moved to observe the readings on the biggest screen, numbers and bars of varying sizes appearing on the plain white background until the word ‘complete’ flashed at the very bottom in bright green letters. “Huh… this is… s-surprising.”

“What is?” Sans inquired, confused by the odd tone tinging Alphys’ voice. “What’d you measure just now?”

“Y-your stats, Sans. I w-wanted to be sure e-everything was in order a-and… well, see for yourself.” Turning the machine enough for give Sans a full view of its screen, Alphys stepped aside and began to wring her hands.

Trepidation grabbed hold of Sans’ soul. Gaze darting over the data displayed, Sans took a few seconds to even comprehend what he was seeing. While his HP was nowhere near Papyrus’ healthy 680, it had risen up to a startling 26. No longer was Sans one misstep away from falling.

“I… is this… are these the correct numbers?” Sans choked out, pushing himself upright as if trying to stand. “Alphys?”

A watery laugh bubbled from Alphys’ mouth, her hands moving to push up her glasses and wipe at her eyes. “Y-yes! I… I have noticed your HP increase in the past w-weeks, b-but I didn’t w-want to mention it u-until I was a-absolutely sure. Y-you’re finally getting b-better, Sans. It’s only a matter of time b-before your o-other stats will begin to improve, too!”

For a moment longer, Sans mind lingered within a cerebral kind of limbo, free of conscious thought. Then, an almost manic burst of laughter spilled from Sans’ throat, rough and painful in its unsuccessful attempts at expressing the overwhelming joy and relief Sans felt. As if in response to their parent’s distress, the unborn child began to flutter about its confinement, muddied flickers of infantile emotions fluttering about Sans’ core. Hands moving to cover his sockets, Sans continued to laugh until he could no longer, the sound soon turning into quiet, gasping sobs.

At some point, Alphys moved to stand beside him, her warm hands rubbing at his shoulders in soothing circles. When his breathing began to turn laboured, Alphys began to coo at him, her soft voice successful in coaxing Sans out of the thought scramble within his head. “Y-You’re alright, S-Sans. Take d-deep breaths. In… and out… there you g-go…”

“Twenty-six!” Sans gasped out when he no longer felt as if his ribcage was caving in on itself, startling Alphys into uttering an undignified squawk. “Twenty-six, Alphys!”

After years of watching his stats tick down to a single point, his health chipped away by the same lack of HOPE which had caused so many monsters to fall as their quest for freedom became more of an unreachable dream. And, perhaps Sans had expected himself to regain a bit of HP once the thought of there being no more Resets had settled, but when there was no improvement after the first two months, Sans had given up the thought.

“I know, S-Sans,” Alphys tittered, her palm lingering against the side of Sans’ skull. “A-are you okay t-to continue the check-up? I s-still need to see how the baby is d-doing.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sans nodded, rubbing at his sockets for a moment before settling back into a more comfortable position with an embarrassed smile. “Go ahead, Alph, I’m good.”

The rest of the check-up went by quickly. The baby was healthy and developing as they should, every single reading Alphys conducted another confirmation to the child’s continued well-being. By the time Alphys started to free Sans from the various cables attached to his body, Sans was just about ready to vibrate right out of his bones. An odd sort of amalgamation of joy and anxiety had begun to curdle within the centre of his chest, the excitement he felt mixed with the fear of losing everything all over again.

“A-alright, you c-can head back upstairs n-now, Sans!” Alphys declared as she rolled up the last cable and made to gather up her equipment to stow it away once more. “Sans? A-are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just trying to take this all in. Glad the kid’s doing good, though,” Sans smiled, scooting forward until he was able to push himself out of the plush chair.

Alphys frowned, concern clear in her eyes. “P-Perhaps we should c-call Papyrus to come and take you h-home, Sans.”

“No, no! Pap’s on a date, no way am I calling for him to come and pick me up, Alph, he’s been so excited the past days.” Sans stumbled for a second, not yet used to the shift in equilibrium the baby’s latest growth-spurt had caused. “I’ll just head upstairs and get myself a glass of milk, or something, if that’s alright?”

“S-sure, Sans! Go r-right ahead, I’ll b-bet with you i-in a few minutes!”  

With a sloppy salute, Sans made his way past Alphys to shuffle on towards the staircase leading to the main floor. The mere sight of the first few steps were enough to force an annoyed groan from Sans’ mouth. Stairs were slowly becoming Sans’ ultimate nemesis, right after shoes with laces and button-up shirts.

Upon reaching the top landing, Sans took a few moments to catch his breath, rubbing at his aching spine. Days like these made him wish the pregnancy was already over and done with. A fiery sneeze and climbing stairs all in one day? There were more comfortable things Sans could imagine going through. Like getting his head stuck between the posts of a handrail, or choking on a fry.

On tired feet, Sans lumbered into the living room after pouring himself a big glass of milk in the kitchen. There, Sans settled into the cushioned basket chair, clutching the cold glass between his hands as he let his aching back relax into the fluffy pillows. A soft, relieved groan resounded through the spacious living room as the ache in his every bone was soothed away by the cradling properties of the basket chair. Perhaps he should invest in buying one.

Nipping at the milk glass, Sans dropped his free hand onto the firm mound of his belly. After a moment’s hesitation, Sans tugged his sweater and shirt upwards, exposing the bump to the air. The womb of condensed magic situated within the transparent bulge of his abdomen had grown a little less opaque over the past days as it was forced to stretch and expand, allowing a glimpse of something vaguely child-shaped to shimmer through. The change was not yet very noticeable to the untrained eye, but Alphys had pointed it out immediately, stating it to be a very good sign.

Sans was just glad it had not been a symptom of magical malnutrition or something the like.

“You’re going to be a lot of trouble, kid, I can already tell,” Sans mumbled, a tender smile gracing his mouth. “Going to make me worry 24/7. Heh, what am I even saying, you’re already worry-factor number one for me. But… but that’s alright. Because I know I won’t be alone. Your Uncle Pap will be there and our friends, of course. And, maybe, even your Papa… depending on whether I can convince myself to tell him. Your Mama is kind of a coward, kiddo, sorry ‘bout that.”

“W-well, I think their Mama i-is a very brave skeleton,” came the unexpected response.

Eyes trailing upwards, Sans locked his gaze onto the fidgeting lizard monster standing in the doorway to the living room. Embarrassed, Sans scratched at his cheekbone, a tiny smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, Alph.”

Alphys tittered and moved to sit on the couch. “You’re w-welcome, Sans. D-do you do th-this often?”

“Do what? Talk to the baby? Well, I’ve been doing it a lot more recently… I wasn’t… you know it took me a while to accept my situation. I’m kind of ashamed to admit I tended to pretend the kid wasn’t even there, most of the time.”

Just as Alphys opened her mouth to respond, the front door was wrenched open. A gust of cold air rushed inside, followed by Papyrus’ distinct voice, “Mettaton! This is not very polite, we should have knocked! Perhaps we should close the door again and actually knock!”

“Nonsense, Papy, darling!” was the incredibly enthusiastic response before Mettaton’s well-dressed figure stepped into the room, the carpet beneath his heeled boots becoming soaked by the snow melting off of them. “Hello, Sans, how wonderful to see you! Alphys! Just the scientist I was looking for.”

“M-Mettaton!” Alphys exclaimed. “W-what’s going on? D-did you d-damage another circuitry board?”

“No, Alphys, sweetheart, but my left leg is no longer functioning as it should due to the cold and I wanted to ask if you could repair it for me! Please?” Mettaton batted his visible eye, metal hands clasped in front of his chest as he seemed to wilt to the left, his leg buckling ever so slightly.

“O-of course, Mettaton. Just s-sit down, I’ll g-go get my toolbox.” Alphys slipped off the couch and dashed out of the room.

Mettaton straightened up, any sign of a malfunctioning leg joint gone. “Good, good. Now, since Alphys will be busy for at least five minutes, I can do what I actually came here for. Sans, first of all, congratulations!”

“Uh… congratulations?” Sans squeaked, eyes darting towards his little brother who seemed a bit shamefaced.

Instead of answering right away, Mettaton kicked off his boots, undid the front of his coat and dropped down to sit on the couch’s armrest closest to Sans. “Indeed. I have been informed of your little bundle of joy and your disturbing lack of any baby related items. I must say, I am surprised at you, Sans, I would have expected for you to at least buy a pair of baby shoes or something to present to the daddy-to-be. Personally, I always thought offering a pair of itty, bitty socks was the best way to reveal a pregnancy.”

From the pocket of his coat, Mettaton pulled a pair of tiny, yellow socks, setting them down onto the obvious swell of Sans’ belly.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, Sans was left to stare at Mettaton, mouth hanging open in what must have been a rather unattractive gape. Patient as a saint, Mettaton continued to smile until Sans snapped his mouth shut, grabbed onto the baby socks and leaned forward to look past the robot at his little brother. “What happened to not telling anyone, Pappers?”

Papyrus fidgeted where he stood hovering in the doorway. “Ah… I… I’m sorry, Sans, I just… I got distracted by Mettaton’s eyes while talking about my ruined boots and… it just slipped out!”

Sans waved his free hand through the air. “It’s fine, it’s fine. No harm done.”

Mettaton scoffed, “In addition, it is becoming rather obvious something’s going on with you, Sans. You won’t be able to hide that baby bump of yours for too much longer. I would have found out eventually!”

Face growing hot, Sans dropped his gaze down to the miniscule footwear clutched between his fingers. The little socks were knitted from soft wool and decorated with the tiniest duo of ducklings Sans had ever seen. Thumb brushing over the soft material, Sans noted the carefully done stitching, the slight irregularities along the parts where the buttery yellow main colour had been swapped for a pastel green to create the ankle bit of the garments.

“Are these handmade?”

“Yes!” Papyrus exclaimed, the guilty expression on his face quickly replaced by an excited grin. “Toriel helped me knit them! Well, Toriel did most of the knitting. But I did the ducklings! Do you like them?”

Incapable not to smile at his brother’s enthusiasm, Sans nodded. “They’re really cute, Pappers, thank you.”

“You are welcome!” Papyrus replied and crouched to untie his boots. “After all, my nibling deserves nothing but the most perfect of socks! I hope they will not leave them lying around the house like you, however!”

“I’m sure they won’t, Pap, these socks are way too adorable to abandon in a corner,” Sans chuckled.

“Well, perhaps we should be stitching ducklings onto _your_ socks, too, then! Maybe it will prevent you from leaving them on the floor,” Papyrus cackled as he rose once more to undo the zipper of his thick jacket.

Sans laughed, clutching the socks a little tighter. “Ah, Pap? There’s something we have to talk about.”

“But I already apologised, Sans!” Papyrus whined, sockets growing a little larger as he arranged his features into an exaggerated pout. “I really am sorry for telling Mettaton, but it was an honest mistake!”

“No, no, Pappers, it’s not about-”

“I f-found my toolbox!” Alphys cried as she re-entered the living room, glasses crooked and her shirt rucked up high enough to expose her pudgy abdomen. “S-sorry for taking s-so long, I misplaced it, and… d-did I interrupt something?”

“Not really.” Sans shrugged, wincing. “Uh, I was kind of about to tell Papyrus about the stuff you found out?”

“Wh-what st- Oh!” Alphys’ confusion transformed into radiant excitement. “Of c-course, of course! M-Mettaton, m-maybe we should go downstairs a-and give these two a moment to talk p-privately? I p-promise to fill you in, o-once we’re in the lab.”

Rolling his eyes, Mettaton stood and proceeded out of the living room, dragging a rather baffled looking Alphys along with him. Sans waited until he could no longer hear Alphys’ stuttering reprimands regarding Mettaton’s obvious lie regarding the robot’s leg, before he cleared his throat and spoke, “So, ah… Alphys did a complete check-up.”

Brow ridges furrowing, Papyrus settled down onto the fluffy carpet in front of Sans, touching his hands to his brother’s knees. “Is something wrong with the baby? Do you need more magic? I knew I should have-!”

“No! No,” Sans laughed, reaching out to give a firm rub to Papyrus’ skull. “Nothing like that, Pappers. You know you’re not supposed to donate so much magic, remember? Also it’s…  it’s not… about the baby. It’s about me. Alphys checked my stats.”

Papyrus’ grip tightened, fingertips digging into the fabric of Sans’ pants. “And? Sans? Is it… bad?”

Sans shook his head. “My HP is twenty-six, Paps. Twenty-six.”

For a moment, Papyrus did not respond, mouth hanging open in incomprehension. Then, with his sockets filling with tears and a wordless scream, Papyrus launched himself forward, wrapping his gangly arms around Sans’ middle and burying his face against Sans’ chest. A sob heaved itself from Papyrus’ chest, followed by a choked, “Twenty-six!”

“Yes!” Sans laughed, looping his own arms around his brother’s shoulders the best he could as he squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear of joy rolling down his cheek. “Twenty-six.”


	9. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fourhundred years, I have finally managed to finish this atrocious excuse for a chapter.

Hands buried deep into the pockets of his coat, Sans stared at the all-too familiar door leading into his favourite bar. Chest tight with nervous energy, the mere thought of entering the bar was enough to root Sans to the ground like a particularly clingy vine of ivy. Soon, the lights would go out and Grillby would step outside to close down for the day.

By then, Sans would hopefully feel a little less like a child waiting to be yelled at. Pressing his arms tighter against his sides, Sans sighed. The baby, as if in response to their mother’s troubled emotions, gave an uncoordinated pulse of magic, prompting a breathy laugh to fall from Sans’ mouth. Trust Grillby’s offspring to try and make Sans feel better.

The thought had only just entered Sans’ conscious mind, when it caused his mood to plummet once more. Maybe Sans should have taken Papyrus up on the offer to accompany him. At least then, the chances of Grillby flying off the handle would have been a bit less.

Sans frowned. Thinking about it now, Sans wondered whether he had ever seen Grillby freak out over anything. Only one instance came to mind which might fit the category. It had involved a broken umbrella, heavy rain and a very frustrated fire elemental.

The windows of the bar went dark and Sans scrambled to appear casual. Grillby stepped outside, bundled into a black coat, a thick, blue scarf looped around his throat and a striped beanie on his head, courtesy of Papyrus. The fire elemental took his time locking the door and turned to face Sans, a surprised smile causing his mouth to light up in a jagged line. “Sans. I did not expect you here so late.”

“Ah, well, I thought walking you home might be nice.” Sans shrugged, ducking his head to hide half of his features within the high collar of his jacket. “I also… want to talk to you about something.”

Grillby nodded. “Alright. Are you certain you are ready to tell me about whatever it is that’s troubling you, Sans? There is no reason to hurry yourself.”

“Oh, trust me, there is.” Sans gave a strangled chuckle.

A pensive expression dimmed Grillby’s flames for a moment before the bartender touched a gloved hand to Sans’ back. “I was not aware there was a time limit… did Papyrus implement one? I did not think he would tell one of your secrets without your consent… at least not on purpose.”

“Oh, no, Papyrus has nothing to do with the time limit. It’ll make sense once you know what’s going on.” Sans offered a tiny, uncomfortable shrug, hoping to ease the sudden tension between them.

Grillby gave a nod and looped his arm around Sans’ elbow, a smile shimmering through the flames of his face. “Alright. Then, please, walk me home, Sans.”

Arm in arm, they strolled down the snow covered sidewalk. Numerous times, Sans opened his mouth to speak, to explain but not a sound would come forth. And so, the walk was done in silence until they reached Grillby’s house. Once again, Sans had failed to tell Grillby and he was left to ponder just when he had become so scared of letting people in.

Instead of letting go, Grillby pulled Sans along, guiding him through the front door. Sans let it happen, taking the proceedings for what they were. A chance given by Grillby to speak in privacy, without time constraints while surrounded by a familiar setting. If Sans had not already been entirely in love with the fire elemental, he would have fallen for Grillby right then and there.

“Would you like something to drink?” Grillby asked, setting his wet shoes aside and moving past Sans towards the living room. “I could make some hot chocolate.”

After hooking his thick jacket onto the hook beside Grillby’s coat, Sans followed the fire sprite into the open kitchen area. “Hot chocolate sounds pretty good. Ah, listen, I’m sorry for… taking ages to explain. It’s difficult.”

“Sans,” Grillby turned, warm hands reaching out to cup Sans’ cheeks between them. “I have told you before, I do not care when you tell me. If you need more time, take it.”

Unbidden tears gathered along the rim of Sans’ sockets, welling until his vision grew distorted and they spilled down his cheeks, leaving trails of cerulean in their wake. Guilt twisted through Sans’ insides, thick and dark and viscous. What had he been thinking keeping this from Grillby so long? Of course, telling Grillby right away might have been scary, but it would have been a lot easier to work through than explaining the web of denial Sans had spun in the past month.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sans wrapped his fingers around Grillby’s wrists, holding on tight as he blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. Then, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Sans blurted. “I just told you you’re going to be a father and that’s all you can say?”

Grillby, eloquent, sophisticated Grillby, spluttered for a second as a bright, almost goofy grin spread across his face. “I’m sorry, this is… so much better than what I thought was happening. I thought you might be waiting for the right moment to break up with me. Or that you had perhaps lied about your health, like you often did when you were younger. This is a wonderful surprise, Sans. How… how long have you known?”

Head reeling, Sans gave a slow blink. “Ah… about four or so months? Five? What do you mean, the right moment to break up with you?”

Apparently, Sans was missing some crucial information right now. Of course, Sans was glad the fire elemental had taken the news so well, but there was some sort of miscommunication going on, still.  They were after all, not a couple, there was nothing to break between them. Or was there?

An embarrassed chuckle tumbled from Grillby’s mouth. “Ah, you were… rather adamant not to share a bed these past months, I thought perhaps it was due to either an illness or you’d grown tired of me. I’m glad to know neither theory was correct. Though, I must say, I did not expect a pregnancy to be the answer for your odd behaviour. Why were you so afraid to tell me, Sans?”

“I might have been a bit scared of how you’d react. I mean, this isn’t exactly what either of us had planned,” Sans replied, shoulders rising and falling in a helpless shrug.

“It might not be, but, Sans, I think we can handle an accidental pregnancy. Talking about having children would have come up sooner or later, anyway, right?” Grillby smiled. “Guess we just… kind of skipped ahead a bit.”

“What do you mean it would have come up sooner or later!” Sans cried out after a moment of baffled silence.

Confusion spread across Grillby’s face. “I do not quite know how relationships between skeletons are done, but when a couple has been together for over four years, they tend to think about moving in together and perhaps having children.”

Stunned, Sans struggled to respond, finally blurting out, “We’re a _couple_?”

Grillby’s flames grew dim as a hint of panic entered the glowing almonds of his eyes. “From my understanding, when two people kiss and are intimate with one another exclusively, then they are considered a couple… right? Did… I misunderstand? I am certain we had a conversation regarding this back at my 21st birthday party, Sans.”

“I thought you were asking to be friends with benefits!” Sans exclaimed.

“Would your answer have been a different one, had I been more clear?” Grillby asked, his long fingers brushing over the coagulating tear tracks marring Sans’ cheekbones.

“No,” Sans whispered before he could lose momentum. “No, it wouldn’t have.”

A chuckle of relief fell from Grillby’s jagged mouth. “Goodness, we’re doing this all backwards, aren’t we, Sans? And I didn’t even realise.”

Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up Sans’ throat. Had it not been for the warmth of Grillby’s hands against his bones and the distinct scent of hot oil clinging to the bartender’s clothes, Sans would have believed himself to be stuck in an elaborate dream. Squeezing shut his sockets, Sans let his head drop forward to rest against Grillby’s abdomen with a tiny, watery giggle.

The revelation of his own feelings being reciprocated was overwhelming. How could he, Sans, carrier of two doctorates, not have realised Grillby had been his boyfriend for the past four or so years? So many nights fretting over little things like inviting Grillby to dinner, buying birthday gifts and so much more could have been avoided had Sans just _asked_ for clarification instead of assuming. He was a scientist, by the stars, assumptions had no place in science, at least not for long, why would they have any in life?

“I’m an idiot,” Sans mumbled.

Strong arms wrapped around him in a firm, yet tender embrace. “You are not. And if you were, I’d be one, too, since I didn’t realise there was an enormous miscommunication between us, either.”

“I guess,” Sans huffed, nuzzling his face against Grillby’s shirt. “Stars, Grillby, how are we supposed to raise a kid? Is there a handbook for particularly obtuse young parent on how to deal with unplanned pregnancies? Because I think we’re in dire need of something like that.”

“Sans, while our situation is not ideal, it is not the end of the world. We might have had a big misunderstanding in regards to our relationship status, but you said yourself, you answer would have been the same had I been more clear I was speaking about us becoming a couple and not just friends with benefits. So… you are willing to give this relationship another try?”

Sans did not hesitate to reply, “Absolutely.”

As if to hide the glowing smile searing through his flames, Grillby ducked his head. “I’m glad. I _do_ love you, Sans. In a very much _romantic_ way.”

Sans snickered, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his sweater to remove the sticky residue of his tears. “I realise that now, yeah. Love you too, Grillbz.”

The conversation was moved to the couch soon after. For hours, Sans and Grillby spoke about the past years, comparing their experiences and working through each other’s insecurities, until they reached common ground. Tears were shed, laughter shared, and kisses exchanged. In the end, they were both exhausted, physically and mentally, but Sans felt more at peace than he had ever before. Not even the elation he felt when he first stepped foot out of the Underground could compare to this. Of course, it would take a bit more time for them both to settle into their newly reconfigured relationship.

Tucked against Grillby’s side, Sans felt the child inside his belly shift and stretch, more active than they had ever been before. Eyes slipping shut, Sans basked in the tranquillity of the moment, until he felt himself begin to fall asleep. His descend into slumber did not progress very far, however, as his phone started to ring and vibrate within his jeans pocket. Scrambling to drag the offending device from its confines, Sans did not even glance at the display before accepting the call with a, “Hello?”

“ _Sans!_ ” Papyrus’ tinny, but not any less loud voice rattled through the speaker. “ _I know you said you’d be going to speak to Grillby, but I did expect you to at least call if you decide to stay the night! I was worried!_ ”

Sans gave an embarrassed chuckle, and switched to speakerphone, to ensure Grillby would not be left out of the conversation. “Sorry, Pappers, we just… there was a lot we had to clear up and talk about, but we’re… we’re okay now. More than okay. Perfect, actually. Anyway, I meant to call, but I forgot somewhere along the line. Anyway, I’m surprised you’re not asleep, yet! Are you alright?”

“ _I-I’m fine! I… uh_ …,” Papyrus stammered, and Sans felt a glimmer of suspicion grow within his chest.

“Pap, I don’t appreciate you lying to me. We’ve been over this. You’re a bad liar anyway, just like me, and there’s absolutely no reason to lie in the first place. What’s going on? Do you need me to come back home?”

“ _No! No, there’s no need for you to come back home! There- ow! Why did- ow! Stop, Undyne, that is not-_ ” A violent struggle could be heard through the speaker before Undyne’s raspy, ever forceful voice replaced Papyrus’ confused squawking, “ _Hey, nerd! Did you tell Grillby about the baby and confess your undying love to your flame guy, yet? Because I’m about to lose a bet, so you better say yes!_ ”

“Are you for real,” Sans muttered, digging his elbow into Grillby’s side when the elemental began to laugh. “Yes, I told Grillby about the baby, and we may have discovered Grillby thought we’d been dating for over four years while I was under the misapprehension we were having a friends with benefits relationship.”

A beat of deafening silence followed Sans’ admission. Then, a whoop of laughter spilled through the speakers, followed by a cacophony of guffaws, belonging to a number of people whom Sans silently promised to have a very stern talking to tomorrow. Just how many of their friends had decided to stake out at Papyrus and Sans’ house for the night?

“ _Only you, Sans!_ ” Undyne crowed, her voice fading as the phone appeared to be passed back to Papyrus. “ _And I thought I was clueless! Anyway, pay up, Mettaton, I won the bet!_ ”

After a few seconds of listening to Mettaton and Undyne bicker in the background, Sans cleared his throat. “Paps? You back?”

“ _O-oh! Yes, I’m sorry, Sans!_ ”

“It’s fine, Pappers. But I’d still like to know why you’re having a mid-sized party at our house,” Sans drawled, tilting his head when Grillby leaned in to touch their foreheads together.

“ _It wasn’t my idea! I invited Mettaton to watch movies, but Alphys told Undyne, and then Undyne said they’d come over, too, and then Toriel came over to ask for milk because she wanted to bake a pie but didn’t go shopping last night and brought Frisk with her. And because I told them you went to Grillby’s, they wanted to wait for you to come home to ask questions, and that’s why everyone’s still here! I’m so sorry, Sans, I tried to explain you needed time, but-_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Sans laughed, having barely been able to follow Papyrus’ frantic explanation, “I’m not angry at you, Paps, I was just asking. Calm down, baby bro. You go enjoy your evening, and tell everyone Grillby and I will be having a ton of fun together.”

“ _Ugh, Sans, I didn’t want to know that!_ ”

“Tough,” Sans grinned. “Have a good night, Pappers. Love you.”

“ _Love you, too!_ ”

Chest warm with an incomprehensible amount of affection and love, Sans dropped the call before grasping Grillby’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Isn’t Papyrus just the greatest?”

“Yes,” Grillby smiled. “He is.”

Sans grinned. “I love you. I know I’ve said this a hundred times now in the past five hours, but I don’t… I can’t help it.”

“I love you, too,” Grillby mumbled, voice even lower than usual. “Both of you.”

“Oh! Speaking of both of us!” Sans lifted his shirt and peered down at the ectoplasmic globe attached to his frame, the opaque surface peppered in shifting bumps. “Pretty sure they love you, too, they’ve been moving around ever since we sat down, it’s crazy. Do you, uh, want to feel?”

Grillby’s hand was atop Sans’ belly before he could so much as blink. In an instant, the child reacted, sending its fledgling magic outwards to greet the parent which had been absent for the first five months of its developing life. After a moment of surprise on Grillby’s side, the flame elemental relaxed and responded. As soon as Grillby’s magic flooded Sans’ abdomen, Sans felt something tight inside him unravel, a last fear becoming undone.

Mouth curving into a bright grin, Sans touched his hand to Grillby’s knuckles, relishing in the familiar magic mingling with his own. “This is nice…”

Grillby hummed in agreement, rubbing at the lower curve of Sans’ bump. “Your magic feels a lot healthier than it did before, Sans. You’ve always had a lot, of course, but… it’s lighter, now, less… weighted. Which is a silly thing to say, considering your magic’s nature.”

“Heh, yeah, gravity manipulation can be pretty heavy to deal with,” Sans snickered.

“That was a bit of stretch there, Sans.”

“And don’t I know it!”

A crackling laugh tumbled from Grillby’s mouth. “Alright, alright. Am I correct in guessing Papyrus was the one to donate magic over these past months? Since I wasn’t in the know just yet?”

“Yeah. He liked to go way overboard at first and ended up fainting, so Alphys and Tori have been making sure Paps won’t run himself ragged trying to keep me healthy. And people say I’m overprotective,” Sans scoffed and shook his head.

“You are overprotective, Sans.”

“Well… yeah, I guess I am. But that’s not the only reason why my magic is doing better. Alphys recently clued me in that my HP is going up. I’m currently at twenty-six.”

“Twenty-six!” Grillby shouted, the volume so unexpected, Sans could not help but jerk away in shock. “I- Sans, that’s wonderful!”

“Yes,” Sans grinned, after scooting back into his spot. “It is. I couldn’t believe it at first but… it’s true. Man, I didn’t even know you could yell, Grillbz, you scared the heck out of me.”

“Yelling is not something we elementals do often. I apologise,” Grillby muttered, leaning down to press a hot, tingling kiss to the tiny nub of Sans’ ectoplasmic bellybutton. “Should we perhaps relocate to the bed?”

“Sounds good.” After a beat of silence and neither of them moving, Sans added, “I can’t believe no one told me fire elementals also touch their foreheads instead of kissing.”

Grillby began to laugh, and Sans decided right then and there, that life was perfect.


	10. Perinatal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! But, hey, as we're nearing the end of Sans' pregnancy, we're also nearing the 9 month mark since I started this story! So... it kind of fits, right?  
> Anyway, I apologise for every error you find, I'm quite busy with University classes and truly surprised I even managed to write this! The epilogue is already in the making and should go a lot quicker, since I know exactly what I want to do in said epilogue... :P  
> Also, this chapter is dedicated to WaspAnon. You're the best, Wasp!

Sans woke tucked against a broad, warm chest. The scent of sundried fabric hung in the air, accompanied by a hint of charcoal. It took but a moment for Sans to recognise the smell, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It was almost surreal how much Sans’ life had changed.

After the big reveal around four months prior, neither Grillby nor Sans had been eager to waste any more time. Just five weeks into their redefined relationship, Grillby and Sans deemed it prudent for Grillby to move out of his apartment and into the skeleton brothers’ home. This had then prompted an elaborate house remodelling initiated by none other than the Great Papyrus himself, who declared one of the two unused rooms to become the baby’s nursery, while the second one was turned into a guestroom.

Furthermore, Sans had been forced to take maternity leave upon reaching his seventh month, his belly too large to manoeuvre around the laboratory without causing minor mayhem wherever he went. Now, around thirty-eight weeks into his pregnancy, Sans considered it a miracle whenever he managed to even get up to cause said mayhem in the first place.

Life was wonderful, but Sans could not help but feel some aggravation at the fact he was rendered just about immobile nowadays. At least the discomfort which had plagued Sans for the past three days had somewhat ceased.  

Fingers curling into the soft fabric of Grillby’s tank top, Sans wiggled his cold feet between Grillby’s toasty legs. But a second later, Grillby startled away with a quiet hiss. “Goodness, Sans… your feet are like ice!”

“Man, I wish I was more awake, I could’ve made a pretty sick ‘getting cold feet’ joke right there,” Sans mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the smooth pectorals hidden beneath Grillby’s tank top.

“Incorrigible,” Grillby sighed, amusement clear in his tone as he tugged Sans closer. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Sans grinned, nudging his swollen middle against Grillby’s abdomen.

Grillby’s large palm moved to rest against the side of Sans’ belly. A pulse of hot magic seeped into Sans, and but a second later, the baby began to shift and stretch their tiny limbs. It was a sensation which, despite having experienced it so many times, Sans could not help but marvel over.

“They are very active,” Grillby noted. “Surprising, considering their mother’s stance towards all things related to moving.”

“Oh, very funny,” Sans snorted before his belly gave a loud, demanding rumble, effectively distracting them both from their banter. “I’d say your kid wants some food, but I’m pretty sure that was all me. Think you’re awake enough to make your boyfriend some breakfast in bed?”

Instead of answering outright, Grillby laughed, touched his forehead to Sans’ and proceeded to roll out of bed. Satisfied, Sans scooted onto the heated spot Grillby had left behind before dragging the thick blanket around his shoulders once more. Sans’ chest felt so very tight, as if ready to burst apart with the joy growing just beyond the sternum, his soul pulsing with giddy energy. Goodness, he was so in love with that gorgeous flame.

Around twenty minutes later, Grillby returned with a tray holding two plates containing omelettes, sliced tomatoes and bacon strips. Sitting up, Sans shifted to make room for the fire elemental, his belly rumbling when the delicious scent of the breakfast wafted into his face. “You spoil me, Grillby.”

“It’s what I do best.” After setting the tray down on Sans’ diminished lap, Grillby clambered back into bed and nuzzled his warm face against the top of Sans’ skull. “Enjoy.”

Sans grinned and dug in without further ado. The food was, unsurprisingly, delicious. The omelette had been stuffed with a light filling of green onions and roasted mushrooms, the bacon was just right in the right kind of crispy, and the tomatoes had been sprinkled with a minimal amount of various Italian spices. A tiny, early-morning masterpiece.

Halfway through the meal, Sans decided to ask, “So, uh, when was the appointment at Alphys’ again?”

“Eleven-thirty. Papyrus invited Toriel and Frisk for dinner, by the way.”

“What? When?”

“Yesterday evening. You fell asleep before we could tell you, and Papyrus thought it’d be better to just let you rest,” Grillby replied.

“Huh. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to Papyrus not nagging at me for being a lazybones,” Sans mumbled, forking a bite of bacon into his mouth. “Anything else I missed?”

“Papyrus may or may not be going on his first – _official_ – date with a certain local celebrity on Sunday,” Grillby announced, after a moment of contemplation. “He has stated to need at least one whole day to pick out a new outfit for said date. I believe there was some talk about Undyne and Alphys taking him shopping on Saturday. “

Sans chortled. “If Paps keeps collecting clothes like this, we should look into buying a new wardrobe for him. Wouldn’t want his current one to just burst open one day and flood the entire house with skinny jeans.”

“It would at least be a very colourful explosion.”  

“ _Hah-he-he_ , true that,” Sans laughed.

Over the course of the next thirty minutes, Sans and Grillby finished their breakfast, washed up and got dressed for the day. Not that there was much difference between Sans’ galaxy themed pyjamas and the star-patterned sweatpants and NASA-t-shirt combination he was now wearing. However, when one was lugging around a belly big enough to house a decently sized beach ball, getting dressed became a struggle of its own.

In addition, Sans had never been one to risk breaking an unnecessary sweat for fashion.

Together, they descended downstairs. Upon entering the living room, Sans was baffled to find his energetic younger brother sprawled out on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, snoring. Grillby, on the other hand, did not appear in any way surprised at the sight before them.

“I told him to go to bed before midnight.” Grillby hummed, head tilting to the left. “It appears he decided not to listen.”

Rubbing two digits along the smooth bone of his brows, Sans sighed. “Probably dozed off to some Disney movie again. Well, we should move him onto the couch. The floor can’t be all that comfortable.”

“I agree,” Grillby muttered, striding forward and hefting Papyrus off the floor without much effort before relocating the gangly skeleton onto the sofa.

Papyrus did not even twitch.

“We have about three hours before Toriel and Frisk arrive… do you think letting Papyrus sleep for another two hours will be enough for him to feel rested?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure he’ll be fine. If not, Toriel’s very good at convincing people to do her bidding.” On aching feet, Sans waddled closer and tugged the folded throw blanket from the arm rest of the couch.

Unfolding it, Sans tucked the thick blanket around his baby brother’s sleeping form. Once Papyrus was close to looking like a swaddled new born, Sans deemed his work complete and straightened up. The movement, like so many others nowadays, made a sharp twinge of pain race up Sans’ back. Unable to suppress a quiet hiss, Sans pushed his hands into the small of his back, hoping to alleviate the lingering discomfort.

Another, much warmer pair of hands joined Sans’ just a moment later. “Sans? Are you alright?”

Soothing heat spread throughout Sans’ aching body, and the child within his belly giving a lazy kick in response. Cramped as their little home had become, the baby was a lot less active than before, though they were not disinclined to roll around as much as they were able to. A habit they most often pursued when Sans was about to fall asleep.

“Uh, yeah,” Sans laughed, tilting his head to peer over his shoulder at the fire elemental. “I guess I should just sit down somewhere and take it easy today. My back’s killing me, and I haven’t even been on my feet for more than twenty minutes.”

“Alright, then… I’ll go clean up the kitchen a bit, I’m pretty sure I never washed out the things I used to make dinner yesterday,” Grillby said before tapping his forehead to the top of Sans’ skull. “Do tell me if you need anything, please?”

“You worry too much,” Sans chided with a grin.

Not even an hour later, Papyrus awoke. Or, at least reached a semi-conscious state.

Amused, Sans observed as Papyrus’ sockets opened half-way, mouth parting to allow a tiny, annoyed groan to slip out. Then, with the grace of a drunken duck, Papyrus began to wiggle his way out of the cocoon Sans had constructed around him, a series of whines and grunts accompanying his attempts. Trapped in his seat by the weight of his own belly, Sans enjoyed the debacle for a few minutes, before speaking up, “Good morning, Pap, did you sleep well?”

“Huh?” Papyrus snorted, lifting and twisting his head to look at Sans. “Wha’?”

“I asked if you slept well,” Sans laughed.

A sleepy Papyrus was at all times a sight to behold.

“Hmm…” Papyrus nodded, wiping at the tangerine trail of drying drool running down his chin. “Yeah… what’s the time? Shouldn’t you be at Alphys’?”

“Not yet, we’re leaving in an hour or so, probably. You want to get some more sleep in your actual bed before Frisk and Tori arrive?”

Papyrus huffed and sat up. “No, I’m alright, brother. Also, I have to vacuum the house and pick up more noodles from the store before our guests arrive! We cannot risk running out of spaghetti tonight!”

“You’re right,” Sans hummed. “Are we going with the classic spaghetti sauce today?”

“Yes! Frisk requested it last time, it appears they are not too fond of mushrooms!”

“Most kids aren’t.”

“Yes, a sad fact,” Papyrus sighed, perking up just a second later. “Anyway! I will go get ready for the day and then proceed to ensure the house is free of dust!”

Catapulting his gangly body off the couch, Papyrus dashed out of the living room to trample up the staircase, his distinct laughter echoing through the house. It was nice to see Papyrus so enthusiastic, despite having spent the night sleeping on a couch instead of his extra-soft race car bed. Though, Sans had seen Papyrus fall asleep on the kitchen floor and wake up rested, so perhaps Sans needed to not be surprised over everything Papyrus did early in the morning.

Within twenty minutes, Papyrus returned, armed with the vacuum cleaner and an expression so determined, it rivalled Frisk’s. “I am happy to see you have not left any socks lying around, Sans. There shall be no casualties this time around! Digging your socks out of the dust bag is not a fun way to spend the afternoon.”

“It’s not?”

“Ugh, Sans!” Papyrus chortled, trying and failing to sound exasperated.

Left to sit in his favourite chair, Sans spend his time watching some cartoon and was forced to imagine each character’s dialogue over the roaring whirr of the vacuum cleaner. By the time ten-fifty rolled around, Papyrus was still at it and did not even react beyond a short wave when Sans declared Grillby and he were leaving for the appointment. Once both of them were bundled up, with Sans resembling a baby blue marshmallow more than anything else, they made a quick dash for the car through the cold drizzle outside.

They arrived a bit earlier than expected, despite the ever increasing rainfall.

Alphys did not appear to mind, greeting them with a smile and was quick to bustle them inside. Within five minutes, Sans was settled atop the cushioned examination table down in the lab, one hand clasped between Grillby’s and his round abdomen exposed. As always, Alphys insisted on checking over Sans’ stats first, taking reading after reading before comparing them to those she had gathered last time.

It was only when Sans was declared healthy and his HP to be steadily climbing still, Alphys moved away once more to retrieve the gadget she had modified to be used as something similar to a human ultrasonography machine. It was beyond cumbersome, large and squared, a broad screen crowning the entire construct.

“Ready to see our kid one last time before they decide to make an entrance?” Sans quipped, throwing a lopsided grin at the tense fire elemental beside him.

“I’m not sure,” Grillby mumbled. “For some reason, I feel very nervous.”

“Guess it’s because you’ve only been at one other check-up and it didn’t include Alphys’ fancy… uh.. baby-spy-machine.”

“Baby-spy-machine?” Grillby chortled. “That doesn’t sound very scientific, _Dr_ Gaster. And it… is a bit of a mouthful, to be honest.”

“M-maybe calling it ‘ultrasound machine’, a-as incorrect as it is, w-would be a better option?” Alphys proposed, activating the bulky machine she had rolled over to the left side of the examination table and plucking the transducer wand from its holder. “A-anyway, a-are you two ready to d-do this?”

“Yep,” Sans replied, giving Grillby’s hand a quick squeeze, prompting a tiny smile from the flame.

The transducer was set against the lower curve of Sans’ belly, the rounded bottom lighting up with Alphys’ buttery yellow magic as soon as it touched the ectoplasmic barrier. A grainy mess of colours appeared on the monitor attached to the top of the large machine, twisting and folding into themselves like a kaleidoscope. This continued for a good thirty seconds before the picture cleared and revealed a tiny, curled up skeleton, encased in azure.   

Their small hands were curled inwards, tucked close to their chest. The soul had not yet receded into the child’s ribcage, something which Alphys had stated would happen once the child deemed it was time to be born. And so, for now, it continued to hover close to the baby’s round face, bright and strong.

Drawn from his observations by a sniffle, Sans averted his gaze from the screen just in time to see the first of many thick, lava-like tears crawl down the side of Grillby’s cheek. A coo fell from Sans’ mouth, “Oh, Grillby, come here, you giant marshmallow.”

With his free hand, Sans reached out, chuckling when the fire elemental did not hesitate to tuck his head against Sans’ chest. Rubbing at Grillby’s shoulder, Sans met Alphys’ gaze, returning the soft smile she offered him. For the next few minutes, Grillby hiccupped his way through a happiness-induced breakdown, while both Sans and Alphys waited patiently for the elemental to calm down.

“Didn’t expect you to get so emotional,” Sans chuckled when Grillby sat up again. “You okay?”

Flushed a strawberry red, Grillby wiped at his face with both hands, smearing the thick, molten magic of his tears over the jagged outline of his mouth. “Yes, I’m okay. Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologise, Grillby, I wasn’t any better the first time around,” Sans soothed, patting his partner’s arm. “You need another moment?”

Grillby shook his head. “We can continue. Sorry, again.”

Alphys waved Grillby’s apology off and shifted the transducer to the left, revealing a little more of the baby’s face. “A-as you can see, the baby has p-positioned themselves head-down, wh-which is very good, seeing as the b-birth could happen at any time n-now.”

Sans winced. No matter how much he looked forward to meeting his child, the thought of the birth itself was terrifying. Sans was no stranger to pain, but every book Alphys had provided had described childbirth as one of the most excruciating things one could experience. At least he would not have to endure it alone. “The baby’s still doing good, right?”

“Oh, y-yes! They are very healthy, their m-magical output is stable and appears t-to lean m-more towards fire m-magic. Though th-this might change a-as they grow older,” Alphys replied, moving the transducer wand once more. “D-do you want me to p-print you a p-picture l-like last time, S-Sans?”

“Fire magic, huh? Explains a lot. The sneezing, in particular. Oh, and yes, we’d love a picture, please” Sans said, sitting up as soon as Alphys had saved a screenshot and begun printing, and was quickly pulled into a firm embrace by Grillby. “I see more hugging is in order, huh? You sure you’re going to be able to handle Tori and Frisk coming over today, Grillby?”

“Of course,” Grillby muttered, his voice muffled by the thick fabric of Sans’ pullover. “Just… let me hold you for a bit.”

Chest growing tight with an abundance of emotion, Sans grinned and wrapped his arms tightly around Grillby’s middle. “You’re a giant marshmallow, Grillbz. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Grillby mumbled, his long fingers tracing along the protrusions of Sans’ spine. “Both of you.”

“Here is y-your picture!” Alphys declared, her voice shattering the atmosphere in an almost comical manner. “A-anything else you two need?”

“Nope.”

“Yes.” Grillby sat up, squinting at Sans. “What did you mean when you said the child’s affinity for fire magic explained the sneezing?”

Alphys snorted and managed to choke out two words, “D-dragon sneeze-!”

Sans groaned as Grillby’s mouth curved into a broad grin. “Dammit, Alphys.”


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end. I hope this won't squick anyone, but I tried to keep it as vague as possible without glossing over the birthing process. Thank you all for sticking with me through this!

The day had been a slow one, as most Sundays tended to be.

About a week had gone by since his last check-up, and Sans was very much done being pregnant. His feet hurt due to the additional weight he was forced to lug around, his spine was in constant agony, and not even Grillby’s and Papyrus’ combined efforts were enough to keep Sans in a good mood. The closer he inched to the end of his pregnancy, the less cooperative his body became. In addition, the discomfort he had been experiencing for the past days had grown exponentially worse. Life was wonderful, but Sans could not help but feel aggravated by the way he was essentially rendered useless.

Trapped in a comfortable chair, surrounded by pillows and covered in a thick blanket, Sans glared at the TV screen. Sans had been watching some kind of action movie, but there was an increasing sense of unrest overtaking him. Soon, his legs were bouncing with nervous energy and Sans made several attempts at getting out of his chair to alleviate his restlessness.

By the seventh try, Sans was gasping for air and the discomfort had been joined by a very distinct pressure just beyond his nostrils. It took a mere moment for him to realise what was happening but by then, it was too late to prevent what was to come. Face contorting with the need to sneeze, Sans watched in horror as Grillby walked into the living room, carrying a stack of folded, freshly laundered shirts.

“Sans, do you need me to-”

“ _Tchoo_!” A jet of flame burst from between Sans’ teeth, searing through the air and singing the left leg of Grillby’s trousers.

For a good ten seconds, neither of them spoke. Then, after setting the stack of shirts onto the armrest of the couch, Grillby sat and buried his face in his hands. A moment later, the elemental’s shoulders began to shake and peals of muffled laughter spilled from between Grillby’s fingers. Somewhat miffed, Sans crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for his partner to stop snickering.

“Yeah, I know, it’s really funny,” Sans grumbled as soon as Grillby appeared to be calming down, unable to suppress a tiny grin despite the pain lingering at the back of his throat. “You done laughing, yet, Grillby?”

“One… one moment,” Grillby gasped, peering at Sans from beyond his digits. “I’m so sorry, Sans, it’s… it’s just… _hah-ah-ah-ha_!”

And he was off again.

In the end, it took almost ten minutes for Grillby’s laughing fit to cease. Now, the fire elemental was sprawled against the couch cushions, still wracked by the occasional wheezing giggle. Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Sans spoke once more, “I’m just glad I didn’t hit Papyrus’ boots this time around. There’s only so many times my little brother will believe me when I say I’m not at war with his choice in footwear.”

“Indeed,” Grillby chuckled, leaning forward and grasping Sans’ hand. “Sorry for laughing, Sans. Are you alright?”

“Eh, I’m okay. Don’t think it’s something I’d be able to get used to, but this one was pretty mild compared to the very first sneeze incident.” Sans shrugged, setting his free palm atop his belly when the baby inside gave a sharp kick. “Geez, your kid kicks like a horse, Grillby, didn’t Alphys say they should be less likely to pummel me this far along?”

“They might be unhappy with their cramped living arrangements,” Grillby offered, squeezing Sans’ hand gently before standing. “I will put away the laundry and see if Papyrus needs help potting the rest of his tomatoes. Will you be okay by yourself-?”

“I’m basically stuck in place whenever I sit down, Grillby, I doubt I’ll get into any kind of trouble. I’ll be fine,” Sans assured with a smile. “You worry too much.”

Grillby’s shoulders sagged as the elemental heaved a deep sigh. “I know, it’s just… Alphys said the baby could come at any time. How can I not worry?”

“…Well, they seem really comfortable right where they are at the moment,” Sans answered after a moment of contemplation. “Especially since they get to kick Mama in the ribcage at any time they want.”

A grimace stole across Grillby’s bespectacled features, lingering for the briefest of seconds before it was smoothed away. “Alright, if you’re sure. Just… call out if you need anything, love.”

“Sure thing.” Sans felt his cheeks grow warm, an almost painful smile creasing his cheeks.

Sans doubted he would ever get used to Grillby calling him ‘love’.

After gathering up the stack of shirts, Grillby leaned down and bumped his forehead against Sans’ skull for a quick kiss. The elemental then moved out of the living room area and vanished up the staircase. Left to his own devices once more, Sans decided taking a nap would be a good way to pass the time, seeing as he was too achy to even consider doing anything productive.

Tugging the folded duvet from the top of the fauteuil’s’ backrest, Sans wrapped the blanket around himself and shut his eyes. Thirty minutes later, Sans was still struggling to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. A distinct pressure had made itself known along the longer curve of his swollen abdomen, while the baby within was doing their utmost to take up as much room as they could by stretching out each available limb from their body. Even through his pullover, his belly was littered in obvious bumps, each one toeing the limits of the ectoplasmic barrier.

“I know there’s not a lot of room, pumpkin,” Sans grunted. “But Mama would appreciate if you’d retract at least one of your little legs. You’ve got some pretty bony kneecaps. Probably from my side of the family.”

A second or two went by, before the baby relented and returned to its usual position curled up within the cradle of Sans’ pelvis. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sans rubbed his palms over the tight ectoplasm, smiling as he felt the child’s body twitch in reaction

Another hour went by. Between listening to Papyrus’ occasional exclamation from the direction of the winter garden, and attempting to follow the storyline of a soap opera involving a rich lady and her call girl lover, Sans began to feel an unbidden anxiousness overtake his body. The sensation did not seem to originate from a specific source, but despite this, it was not any less potent. Combined with the pain pulsating from somewhere close to his pubic bone upwards to the crest of his belly, Sans was just about ready to throw a tantrum.

Unwilling to sit still for even a moment longer, Sans shifted and strained until he succeeded in heaving his body out of the seat. Sans’ triumphant grin lasted for but a moment. A mere second after he had straightened up, Sans felt something inside his belly pop and his sweatpants grow wet. Warm and bright cyan was the liquid gushing out of him, soaking through his pants and splattering onto the parquet floor, creating a widespread puddle.

Blindsided, Sans stood unmoving for a good ten seconds, watching as the flood slowed to a trickle. Then, after shaking off the stupor overtaking his mind, Sans called out to his family in a slight panic, “ _Grillby! Papyrus!_ ”

In a mad scramble, Grillby stumbled into the living room from the direction of the office, followed by a rattled Papyrus who, judging by his getup, had just taken a shower, a towel still wrapped around his skull. Before either of them could ask what had happened, Sans choked out, “Call Tori... I, uh, I think my water just broke.”

Grillby froze, while Papyrus jumped into action, fumbling for his phone and moving away to make the requested calls. Straddle-legged, Sans wiggled his toes, grimacing at the slimy sensation of liquefied ectoplasm between his bones. Gross. Shaking off the fear coursing through him, Sans waddled a few steps away from the puddle, reaching out for Grillby’s stock still form. “Hey, Grillby, I could use a hand, I don’t want to track this mess through the whole house and- _ah_!”

A sharp pain – a _contraction_ , Sans realised – wracked through him, a number of times worse than any of those which had come before. It was enough to force a grunt of pain from Sans’ mouth, both arms curling around the tight bulge of his belly. More splashes of runny ectoplasm landed on the floor as the contraction peaked, finally prompting Grillby into action. Without waiting for instructions, Grillby plucked Sans off the ground and into his arms, whisking him off towards the downstairs bathroom.

Once there, Sans was plunked into the bathtub and did his best to assist Grillby in removing the ruined sweatpants. “Stars, when Tori said having a baby was messy, she was not joking around…”

Grillby gave a strangled chuckle, the sound tinted with a hint of hysteria. The flame was crouched beside the tub, hands still clutching the stained sweatpants as Grillby’s head clunked down onto the rim of the bathtub.  Brows creasing with a concerned frown, Sans brushed his fingers along the muscular lines of Grillby’s back. “You okay?”

“I’m… not sure. I… I thought I would be ready, seeing as it was only a matter of time, but I guess I was wrong. Sans, I am terrified. What if something goes wrong?” The elemental met Sans’ gaze with a sigh, the flames atop his head dimmer than usual.

“Hey,” Sans mumbled, touching his forehead to Grillby’s. “We’ll be fine. People have been having babies for thousands of years. And if anything should go wrong, we have Tori to help out.”

“…Alright,” Grillby whispered with a firm nod.

“You know, I thought _you’d_ be the one who’d have to reassure _me_ , not the other way around,” Sans grinned, wincing when his belly began to grow hard again announcing the start of another contraction. “Oh, here we g… go again…”

Squirming where he sat, Sans panted through the newest contraction. The change in intensity was mindboggling, the pain so much more severe than before. All of this, just because his water had broken. As the contraction began to cease, Sans noticed his shirt had also been removed and the tub was slowly filling with warm water.  Turning his head, Sans watched as Grillby retrieved a few large, fresh towels from the cupboard, unfolding some of them to cushion the sides of the tub with. By the end of it, Sans was a little more comfortable and the pleasant heat of the water made the pain just a bit more manageable.

For the next thirty minutes, Sans laboured through contraction after contraction, the repetitive cycle broken only by the entrance of a frazzled looking Papyrus. “Sans? Toriel should be here in a few minutes and I prepared the bedroom for you to have the baby in, just like Toriel told me to! Is… uh, there something you want me to get you? Some ice water, maybe?”

“Water’d be great,” Sans choked out as the latest contraction relented. “Th-thanks, Pappers, you’re awesome.”

“ _Nyeh_ , of course I am!” Papyrus squawked as he scampered off. “I am the Great Papyrus, after all!”

A weak chuckle fell from Sans’ mouth, his eye sockets sliding shut as Grillby’s warm hand brushed over the top of his skull. Hot, familiar magic seeped into Sans’ aching body, smoothing away some of the lingering pain.

“You’re doing great, Sans,” Grillby said softly.

“Heh.” Sans smiled. “Doesn’t feel like I am, but I _ah_ … appreciate the sentiment, Grillbz.”

Before Grillby could respond, Papyrus made a return, the sound of ice cubes clinking against glass accompanying his entrance. “I come bearing a glass of ice water!”

“You’re the best,” Sans groaned, reaching out without opening either of his eyes.

The glass was pressed into Sans palm and he did not hesitate to take a long sip from the chilled liquid. When he had emptied about half of the glass, Sans opened his eyes to meet Papyrus’ concerned gaze. “You okay?”

“Am I-? Sans! I am not the one having a baby! I am perfectly alright. If anything, I am worried for you, and wondering whether or not I managed to clean up all of the ectoplasmic goo in time before it seeped between the parquet floorboards!”

Sans snorted. “Oh, yeah, that was quite a mess. Didn’t expect that much liquid to come out, Tori never said anything about that. Neither did Alphys.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Toriel’s voice rang out from the direction of the front door. “Hello?”

“We’re in the bathroom!” Papyrus shouted, leaning halfway out the door. “I’m a little upset at you for not telling us about the mess that Sans’ water breaking would bring! There was runny ectoplasm all over the parquet!”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, Papyrus,” Toriel snickered, her giggles growing louder as she approached the bathroom to peer inside. “Oh, I see you’ve discovered the joys of a hot bath already, Sans. How are you doing?”

“Ah… could be better? I’ve been feeling kind of… off for the past two days, what with the stomach pains and such. But when my water broke, it just… got so much worse,” Sans answered, rubbing at his belly, which was already tightening up again in preparation for the next contraction. “Is that normal?”

“Very much so. It sounds like you’ve reached the active stage of your labour.” Toriel moved further into the bathroom, kneeling down beside the tub to touch her warm paw to the shuddering curve of Sans’ spine.

Toriel, as every other member of the Royal Family, had been made to learn a profession due to a long-standing tradition which’s origins had long since been forgotten. As it was, Toriel, with her overall maternal, caring nature, had chosen to learn the trade of midwifery. Without her knowledge, Sans was certain they would have been in a whole lot of trouble by now, no matter the amount of theoretical knowledge Alphys had gathered for them.

“Oh… well, okay, then,” Sans squeaked, clearing his throat. “Ah… well, I think it’s time to get out of the tub. My tailbone’s starting to hurt and- _ah_ , _fu_ -!”

“We will wait until this one has stopped before moving you, Sans,” Toriel assured, her large paw a reassuring weight against Sans’ back. “… I do hope the next stage will not be as bad as mine was back then.”

But of course it was.

Dressed in nothing but a thin cotton shirt, Sans found himself panting through the longest contraction yet, some four hours later. Clutching at the towels spread across the thin plastic sheet protecting the mattress underneath, Sans was quite certain his spine was about to snap in two. In addition, the harsh, rhythmic compression of his abdomen had brought forth a kind of nausea Sans had not experienced since the beginning of his pregnancy.

“Feel sick,” Sans managed to slur just before the first dry retch rattled through his body.

Grillby, who had been doing his best to rub Sans’ back through each and every contraction while offering reassurance after reassurance, flailed sideways to reach for the empty bowl standing on the bedside table.  The elemental managed to thrust the bowl beneath Sans’ chin just in time for another heave which brought forth a glob of what might have been a banana at some point.

Stars, was Sans glad Papyrus had been ordered to pick up Frisk from a friend’s house and not been witness to this mess.

“Oh dear,” Toriel sighed as she walked in with a fresh stack of towels. “I truly hoped you’d be spared this symptom, Sans.”

Coughing, Sans slumped back against Grillby’s warm chest, the thin plastic sheet beneath the towels crackling at the rough movement. “Jus’ want it to be over.”

“I know, Sans, it won’t be much longer,” Toriel soothed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, her warm paws cupping Sans’ belly for a minute. “Just a little more.”

Grillby did not speak, instead brushing his palms over Sans’ arms, leaving trails of magic in his wake. While there was not much relief garnered from Grillby’s gesture at this point, Sans appreciated the gesture for what it was. Shutting his sockets, Sans worked through another contraction, latching onto Grillby’s hands when they moved into the vicinity of Sans’ wrists.

Through five more much too quick contractions Sans suffered, before they seemed to settle into a consistent rhythm. The spasms did not grow any less intense, but were spaced further apart, allowing Sans to catch his breath in between. A definite improvement to the situation just minutes ago. Then the urge to push hit, and Sans began to panic, his legs twitching as he attempted to change positions.

Gentle hands cupped Sans’ cheeks, Grillby’s low voice filtering through the fear. “Sans, what do you need?”

“Want to move,” Sans choked out. “Need to push.”

“Alright.” There was no hesitation on Grillby’s side as he helped Sans manoeuvre himself onto hands and knees. “You’re doing so good, Sans, I’m proud of you.”  

Sans gave a weak smile, patting his lover’s hand to ensure Grillby knew his words were appreciated. Toriel, whom had taken great care not to become an overbearing presence for the duration of Sans’ labour, moved to touch her paw to Sans’ dipping spine just as another contraction began to peak. “Ready, Sans?”

“Nope,” Sans gasped. “Let’s get this show on the r-road anyway.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Sans pushed and gasped his way through the baby’s slow descend. At some point, Sans even changed positions again, moving into a low squat, with Grillby kneeling behind him as physical support, keeping Sans from tumbling onto his ass should his legs start to buckle.

From then on out, everything moved a lot quicker. With gravity on his side, Sans managed to force the baby’s skull out within four quick pushes, an almost feral growl rumbling through his chest as he worked to pass the shoulders. The first popped out with a gush of liquid ectoplasm, adding another stain to those already decorating the towels, the second shoulder following close behind.

“You’re almost done, Sans!” Toriel declared, excitement tinting her voice. “Just a few more good pushes and you’ll have your baby.”

Ready to be done with this entire ordeal, Sans gathered whatever strength he had and Grillby had left, and bore down. Sans barely noticed the child sliding from his body, only ceasing his pushing when a thin cry pierced the air. A sharp gasp fell from Sans’ mouth as he opened his eyes to stare at the small bundle wailing in Toriel’s arms.

The little skeleton was covered in rivulets of cyan, their little limbs encased in golden fire, familiar flames dancing along the crest of their head. With their face scrunched up in displeasure, the child looked much like a rather sour lemon. Sans was certain he had never in his life seen anything so precious.

Unable to take his gaze off the squealing baby, Sans let Grillby move him onto a relatively dry spot. There, Sans was forced to wait until Toriel finished cleaning and swaddling the flailing child. And then, finally, the little bundle was set into Sans’ arms.

“They’re beautiful,” Sans mumbled, his voice trembling. “Grillby, look at them, look at their little hands…!”

Grillby gave a watery laugh, his large hand cupping the baby’s skull, spluttering through a sob when the child began to settle. Tired and spent, Sans leaned into Grillby’s warm body, sockets half-lidded as he watched Grillby soothe their newborn to sleep. Soon, Sans felt his own mind begin to drift off, only just aware of Toriel puttering around the bed, cleaning away towels and spreading a blanket over Sans’ lower half. She then left the room, likely to attempt salvaging some of the towels by placing them into the washing machine.

A tranquil silence settled within the room, thick and warm.

It did not even last long enough for Sans to fall asleep.  

“ _What do you mean, my brother already had the baby_?!”

 

Fin


End file.
